ミ Tìtunu

ミ tìtunu

part one | part two | part three (nsfw) | part four (nsfw

🍓pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

🍓word count: 9k words (oops)

🍓warnings: alien courting rituals, misunderstandings, accidental sexy touching

yoooo i was not expecting people to like this ahhahahaha but thank you all so much for all your lovely excited comments! they've been so fun to read and honestly pushed me into writing this faster! pls forgive me if i forgot to tag you (i tried to include everyone that asked) 🍓 masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

Tsu’tey is beginning to wonder if he had received some irreparable damage to his head in the fall from the sky that had nearly killed him all those months ago. It’s the only explanation for what’s gone so terribly wrong with him.

After his failed first attempt at courting, you don’t come back to the village for a few days. It’s probably a good thing, Tsu’tey tries to convince himself; he needs to decide what it is he truly wants, and how far he’s willing to go to get it. But even though he tries to use the time to himself productively, he finds himself on edge and impatient.

His foul mood is clear to the whole village to see, and so it’s only a matter of time before someone confronts him about it.

It’s just his luck that the person who approaches him about it is Jakesully.

“So,” The new Olo’eyktan drawls as he sidles up to where Tsu’tey is watching a group of young warriors training with their longbows, “Word has it that you’ve chosen a mate.”

They may be brothers in arms and tentative friends, but that doesn’t mean that Tsu’tey is pleased to have him poking around his business. His ears flatten back in a wordless warning to back off, but Jakesully pays no heed to it.

The bastard is grinning, as though this is the most entertained he’s been in weeks. “Word has it that your chosen mate is human.”

“Do not speak on matters you do not understand.” Tsu’tey bares his teeth in a move that is bold at best, considering he is speaking to his clan chief.

But Jakesully just laughs, his stupid shoulders straightening. He has become so confident since becoming one of the people, and Tsu’tey envies him for it. He was sure of himself just like Jakesully once, but now it seems like all he does is doubt himself.

“Relax, brother.” Jakesully says casually, leaning on one leg as he follows Tsu’tey’s gaze out towards the young warriors. “You are too tense. How could she want someone so grumpy?”

Tsu’tey turns to him then, his tail coiled in a tense loop as he glares. “She is a demon.”

Jakesully just rolls his eyes. It's a gesture so human that it’s almost jarring. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that he is alien, just like you.

“Everyone sees the way you look at her.” Jakesully says, raising a brow at him. “It’s a different kind of scowl than you give everyone else.”

Tsu’tey doesn’t think that he scowls that much. He tries to force the frown off his face as he turns to look at Jakesully head on.

“It does not matter what you think you see,” He bites out, frustrated and on-edge with embarrassment. “She is tawtute. Sky demon. She does not see, cannot connect with the People or with Eywa.”

Jakesully is nodding, but he still has that infuriating smirk curling around his mouth that suggests he understands Tsu’tey’s feelings better than Tsu’tey himself does.

“That hasn’t stopped you so far, has it?” He points out with a faux-innocent tone that is utterly unconvincing. “I mean, you certainly seem happier to show her around and explain things to her than you ever were with me.”

“That is because she listens, Jakesully.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jakesully waves this away as if it’s inconsequential, before his expression shifts.

The next look he levels at Tsu’tey is uncomfortably sober.

“Look. I know that you’ve been having a hard time since...” He trails off, and his eyes dart down towards the harsh, ugly scars that cover Tsu’tey’s torso from where the brutal human weapons called bullets had nearly torn him apart. “Look, who cares what anyone else thinks? The People are still wary of the humans left over, but they’re looking to you as an example on how they should act. You could set a precedent here.”

Tsu’tey clenches his jaw as he stares out at the warriors. Instead of answering, he shouts out to one of the younglings near the edge of their makeshift firing range. “Netu’li, keep your elbows up.”

Netu’li fixes his posture, and the next arrow he looses hits home in a perfect bullseye. Tsu’tey nods in satisfaction.

Jakesully is still staring at the side of his face, and Tsu’tey realises that there is no way for him to escape this conversation. He takes a breath, and tries to ignore the resentful embarrassment coiling in his belly.

“She did not accept my advances.” He mutters, his ears flattened against his skull.

Irritatingly, Jakesully doesn’t seem bothered by this in the slightest.

“Oh yeah?” He drawls. “Hm. Well, I never thought you’d give up so easily. I’m surprised.”

Tsu’tey flicks a quick glance his way. What a ridiculous, painfully transparent attempt at goading him into admitting the interest he’s been trying to deny. The worst part is that it might actually be working.

“I did not say I was giving up.” Tsu’tey says sharply, well aware that he’s playing right into Jakesully’s hands right now. “I am just… I am thinking.”

Jakesully raises his stupid eyebrows, but Tsu’tey is studiously avoiding looking at him now. This whole situation was mortifying enough when it was all going unsaid; now that it’s being discussed, Tsu’tey feels like climbing inside of a yomioang plant and never coming out.

“Well,” Jakesully sounds smug, which should be a warning in itself, “You’d better do some thinking quickly, because I believe that’s her coming now.”

Tsu’tey straightens quickly, and tosses a look over his shoulder. Sure enough, your familiar figure is standing awkwardly by the treeline. It seems as though you’re reluctant to step further into the village; you’re fidgeting with your fingers, eyes darting around until they finally find him.

Something in his lower belly leaps, and he finds himself taking a sharp inhale through his nose at the sight of you. It’s been days since he’s last seen you, and he had been beginning to wonder if you would ever seek him out again. The sight of you here is a ridiculous sort of relief, one that he doesn’t even want to fully think about. Even better is the fact that you look alright, you look healthy. It doesn’t seem as though he’s done lasting damage to you with the meat.

You smile at him, and even from across the village he feels his heart thump against his ribcage. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

Aware of your eyes on him, Tsu’tey hefts his longbow from his back and shoots an arrow. It flies straight through the target, and hits it with a heavy, satisfying thump.

Jakesully just laughs. “Wow. Impressive.”

“Be silent.” Tsu’tey grumbles, his tail coiled tightly around his leg. He is anxious in a way that is entirely unbefitting of a warrior, and he resents you for being the cause of it. “I do not wish to speak to her.”

“Oh, come on!” Jakesully tilts his head back, shaking his head as though Tsu’tey is nothing but a child. “I thought we just talked through this!”

Tsu’tey ignores him. He can feel your gaze on his back like a weight, and though he stands straight and tall he cannot bring himself to turn around and meet your eyes. It’s all too much – even from across the camp your presence needles at him, and he hasn’t even decided on what he’s going to do just yet.

Jakesully’s eyes on the side of Tsu’tey’s face don’t help very much either. “Where’s all your confidence from the other night gone, when you practically declared what you wanted in front of the whole clan?”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes restlessly. That had been a moment of pure madness. “It was rash of me.”

Jakesully just makes a face. “Whatever. Look, if the People could accept a skxawng like me as Olo’eyktan, why wouldn’t they accept your interest in a human mate? They respect you; they’ll respect your choices.”

It’s a reasonable point, but Tsu’tey remains stubbornly silent. It rankles, the way that Jakesully is trying to insert himself into his business. Tsu’tey’s thoughts and feelings about you are confused and conflicted, but they’re private. The way Jakesully speaks about you as though he knows you makes Tsu’tey’s skin prickle.

“I must think on it.” Tsu’tey says at last. It’s a weak response, but he just wants to buy himself some time.

Perhaps Jakesully is right. Tsu’tey has always been strong-willed and stubborn, and has always known exactly what he wanted. Now though, he's floundering. Now he doesn’t know what he wants, and he’s casting about desperately in the hopes that someone will advise him on what to do. After having his life and expectations so soundly upended, he just wants to make his clan proud. He wants their approval, but Jakesully is right – when has he ever given up on anything just because it posed a challenge?

“Fine.” Jakesully says, jarring Tsu’tey from his thoughts. He had nearly forgotten the Olo’eyktan was still there, and it’s unnerving to realise that he’s being watched with a smug sort of smirk. “I’ll keep her company for today, then. Considering you need your space.”

Tsu’tey’s jaw clenches hard but he does not protest. He can’t, not after making such a big deal out of not wishing to speak to you today. His pride is hurt, and all he can do is double-down on his position. Besides, Jakesully is mated to Neytiri, and Tsu’tey knows that he would rather die than stray from her.

That doesn’t stop him from turning his head as Jakesully leaves his side, watching with sharp eyes as the Olo’eyktan approaches you. Even from this distance, he can see the little smile on your face through your mask as you tilt your head up towards him. The sight of it causes something to curdle in his low belly.

That should be him on the receiving end of your sweet little smile. It’s a selfish thought, but one that he can’t quite shake off. The sense of possessiveness surprises even him, and he watches with narrowed eyes as Jakesully leans down to say something to you.

When Jakesully’s stupid five-fingered hand touches upon your shoulder to lead you away to somewhere else within the camp, Tsu’tey feels his tail whip around his ankles in aggravation.

I will try again, He thinks wildly as he turns back around to stare unseeingly at the practicing warriors in front of him. And this time I will not fail to impress.

Now that Tsu’tey has reached the decision to court you (officially), there is much to be prepared. He has never been one to take half-measures, and initiating a courtship is certainly no exception. You may not be Na’vi, but he will court you with all the respect and courtesy as he would if you were one of the People.

Part of him wonders if his decision is written across his face somehow, because the People of the village seem to know. When he begins searching for materials to make an official courting gift for you, he begins getting help from unexpected places.

Some of the children have started leaving pieces of twine and plant fibre in his treehut, and he is pleased to find that it is of good enough quality to begin weaving immediately. The old woman, A’nayla, who is the best at carving beads in the whole village, slaps his hands away impatiently when he attempts to pick out a number of beads for your gift. She directs him instead to some of her shiniest and most vibrant beads, and refuses to make any trades. A gift, she had insisted, her old face crinkling in a knowing smile as she had waved him away.

He feels supported, even more so when Neytiri visits him in his treehut one evening after dinner. It has been a few days since you visited the encampment, but Tsu’tey is determined to have everything in good order before he approaches you in earnest.

When Neytiri enters the small hut he had built in the trees when they first settled in this encampment, she takes a moment to peer around with a neutral expression.

Tsu’tey has been sitting on the woven mat in the middle of the room, but he looks up and waits for his old friend to speak.

“My Jake has told me about your intentions with the tawtute.” She says after a long moment, stepping forward and sinking down to sit in front of him with her legs crossed. “Many people speak of it in the village.”

Tsu’tey’s ear twitches at that, embarrassed, but he just focuses back on his weaving. There’s no point denying it; he does not plan on hiding it for much longer, anyway.

“Yes.” He says simply. “My first attempt was… not successful.”

Neytiri hums. He thinks he can hear an undercurrent of amusement. “Yes. I saw.”

His ears flatten in earnest at that. He had hoped that no one had witnessed that particular humiliation, but that’s no matter. People will soon forget, and he will soon have you distracted with his second (and surely more successful) attempt.

Her eyes fall on the half-finished woven piece in his hands, and she eyes it carefully. “That is too big. She is small, remember.”

“Of course I remember.” He snaps, before raising the half-finished jewelry to his face and squinting at it. “You think it will not fit?”

“Give me.” Neytiri demands, and stretches out her hand.

Tsu’tey passes it without complaint. They have known each other since birth, certainly long enough to forgo any passing formalities and niceties. He trusts Neytiri with his life, his best-friend and once-potential-mate, and he finds himself waiting with his tail curled protectively beside him as he awaits her judgment; not only on his half-finished gift, but also on his choice of a mate.

“This decision I have made,” He says suddenly. “To court the sky demon. It is madness, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Neytiri speaks with hardly a hesitation, though she doesn’t raise her eyes from his weaving. She starts picking out a loop where he had made a mistake, and begins reweaving it with deft fingers. “But I will not be the one to judge you for that.”

“And Mo’at?”

“She thinks you are a skxawng.” Neytiri says easily, “But she loves you like a son.” The next look she darts at him is quick and sharp out of the corner of her eye. “Out of everyone in the village, your heart was the most firmly closed against the Sky People. Does that not make it all the more meaningful, that you have chosen a sky person as your mate?”

Tsu’tey is silent. He used to think that he knew exactly how his life was going to work out; he would be Olo’eyktan, he would mate with his first love Sylwanin, they would be happy and prosperous and strong together. But that future evaporated like mist before his eyes; not all at once, but gradually, until he could barely see the vapours. His reality is very different now; he clings almost desperately to the idea of you. There have been many people that Tsu’tey has not been strong enough to protect, but you are so small and soft – you need protecting more than anyone he’s ever known, and he’s determined not to let you down.

“She will accept,” Tsu’tey murmurs, before casting an uncertain glance in Neytiri’s direction. “Do you think so?”

“I see her look at you.” Neytiri murmurs back, her mouth curving. “She will accept.”

That brings a rush of relief so sudden and unexpected that Tsu’tey feels it like a physical blow. He keeps his head bowed in the hopes that it will not be so obvious, and hums absently as though he’s only half listening. It’s not enough to convince Neytiri, but he hopes that it works to recoup at least some of his pride.

“You have redecorated.” Neytiri comments, though her eyes stay focused on fixing the small section of the necklace that Tsu’tey had messed up. “Your kelku is inviting.”

That pleases Tsu’tey, and he sits up straighter. Decorating has never been a strong suit of his, and it presented more of a challenge than he had initially anticipated to decorate in such a way that it would appeal to a human. He knows you are very interested in the plants of his planet, considering the amount of time you spend studying them, so he has effectively cushioned the rough wooden walls and floors with softer wide leaves. From the ceiling hangs intense blue eanean flowers and hippophae leaves, lending a soft phosphorescent glow to the small space.

“Humans are weak,” Tsu’tey grunts. “Soft bones, fragile skin. She needs soft surroundings, too.”

Neytiri hums her agreement, before finally lifting her head. In her hands, the knot in the half-finished necklace has been unpicked and resolved. She hands it back, and Tsu’tey takes it cautiously into his hands before peering carefully at her work. Her hands are far more practiced in the art of weaving than his; she has done a wonderful job.

“Thank you.” He says quietly. He is appreciative on several levels; for her weaving, for her company, for her support.

She seems to pick up on what he isn’t saying, as usual. “You should approach her again soon. My Jake says that she is sad – she thinks she has upset you, and that you are angry with her.”

Tsu’tey raises his head sharply at that. He’s not sure if he’s more displeased at the idea that you are upset or the fact that you have apparently been confiding in Jakesully. It is difficult to push past the feeling that you should be confiding in him, that he should be the person offering you comfort. But how could you approach him when he was part of the problem?

“I will find her tomorrow.” He decides. The thought of him losing his chance is sickening – he can’t afford to wait until everything is perfectly prepared. He will just have to do his best with what he’s got so far.

Neytiri grins at him, her lips peeling back of her teeth in a way that is both joyful and intimidating.

“Sìltsan tìtaron.” She says, and Tsu’tey finds himself grinning back without conscious thought.

It is a customary saying in their tribe, used for both chasing prey and courting mates. Good hunting.

When the next day dawns, Tsu’tey curses himself for feeling nervous.

The last time he felt this way was the night before his iknimaya, when he was a fledgling warrior. Even then, he was so confident, his ego inflated by the simple fact that he had never experienced a loss before.

This time is different. He finds himself anxious in a way that he is utterly unused to experiencing, and it makes him bare his teeth in frustration as he bounds down from his treehut into the village properly. It is already a hive of activity, and the familiar buzz of conversation and laughter eases some of the tension out of his shoulders.

He will take this slow, he’s already decided. Slow and careful.

The thought of you refusing him is something that he can’t bring himself to consider; he needs to show you that he is strong, that he is thoughtful and caring, that he can provide for you and keep you safe and make you happy. He has to convince you that there is no one who can care for you better than he can.

Finding you is easy enough; the human scientists that have remained on the planet follow a routine, and you are no different. Besides, as some of the children in the village tell him, you have been lingering close to the village for days now. Ostensibly you are studying the plantlife, but Tsu’tey knows that you have likely been waiting to catch a glimpse of him. The realisation has a hollow feeling of guilt gnawing at his stomach, but he tries to push it aside – he will apologise soon.

He finds you in the forest, only a little while outside of the village. You are not alone; as is standard procedure, you are accompanied by three other scientists and a dreamwalker.

Norm is as awkward as ever in his Avatar state, discussing whatever he is reading from his demon technology with wide eager eyes. Tsu’tey is familiar with Norm now, mostly against his will – Jakesully is fond of the scientist, and he has been invited to take part in village life on several occasions. Tsu’tey will begrudgingly admit that the dreamwalker is respectful of Na’vi life and culture and he has come to accept his presence both on his planet and around his people, but seeing him around you is making him fidgety.

One of the scientists is armed (and the sight of the gun makes his skin itch from the memory of bullets tearing flesh) and Norm is at least Na’vi-sized, but that is the extent of the protection they have brought. Tsu’tey’s fingers twitch. It is not enough. You are so small and fragile, entirely unsuited for his world. Don’t you know that? Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be out here like this with so little to protect you?

You’re so preoccupied with the helicoradian you’re studying that you don’t seem to notice anything else around you. Your head is bowed, your eyes bright and shiny with interest as you inspect the orange pigment dusting the leaves.

The dappled light that filters through the trees casts shadowy patterns across your face in a way that is nearly mesmerising, and he ends up staring at you for a longer moment than he had originally intended. You are strange-looking and alien to him, and yet his fingers itch with the desire to touch you.

Tsu’tey leaps from the branch he had been watching you from, and lands neatly on the balls of his feet. His movements are nearly soundless, and none of the humans raise their heads. They don’t seem to sense his appearance at all.

His brow furrows in dissatisfaction. Anything could creep up on you, and you would not see it coming until it was too late.

He reaches out one leg and steps purposely on a twig. The snap is resounding, and the man with the gun whirls around and hoists the weapon higher, aiming at Tsu’tey’s chest.

He just bares his teeth in warning.

“No!” You yelp, throwing your hands up as soon as you realise what’s happening. “Don’t shoot him!”

Despite the situation, he’s sure that he looks quite smug. It feels good to experience you standing up for him, even if he doesn’t really need it – he could knock this puny little gun-toting tawtute into the dirt with a single backhand if he wished, though he refrains. He’s trying to be on his best behaviour.

“Fuck!” The little man yells, clearly spooked. “What does he want?”

That makes you falter, and you look up at him with uncertainty. It seems like you’re waiting for an explanation as well. All of the scientists are silent are apprehensive, eyeing him cautiously as they wait to see what he’s going to do. Their eyes linger around the knife strapped to his waist and the longbow strung over his shoulders.

Norm is looking at him with raised eyebrows, his ears perked up. Judging by his expression, Tsu’tey assumes that Norm has guessed exactly what he’s doing here.

“I wish to speak with you,” He tells you in Na’vi – he knows that some of the other scientists will be able to interpret his words, but it brings an illusion of privacy all the same.

You blink, but hesitate. When you don’t agree immediately, Tsu’tey feels his ears pin back. Your uncertainty is surely a bad sign for him – has he misjudged how upset you were?

He turns to the other humans and narrows his eyes at them. “Leave.”

They burst into motion satisfyingly quickly. The moron with the gun looks as though he is about to start arguing, but Norm hooks the long fingers of his demon body into the back of his collar and tugs him away. For once, the scientist is not being a nuisance.

You’re still standing there, turning to stare in apparent bewilderment at your comrades, who are practically fleeing. “What-”

“Come.” Tsu’tey says. Now that it’s just the two of you, he loses some of the edge in his voice.

When he turns away and begins to lead you into the forest, you follow after him without complaint. Out of the corner of his eye, Tsu’tey can see you twisting your hands nervously. Your clear anxiety has him frowning – he wants you to be comfortable with him, not on edge.

Once he’s determined that you’re both far enough away from the other humans that they could not hear you, he turns to you. You’re already looking at him, fingers twisting as you bite at your lip.

Calm and steady, Tsu’tey thinks to himself. Just apologise for ignoring her.

Apologising does not come easy to him, but he rolls his shoulder and takes a breath before opening his mouth.

“I’m sorry!” You blurt before he can make even a sound.

That throws him, and he ends up staring at you with his mouth ajar for a long moment like an absolute moron. Why are you apologising? This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“I didn’t mean to get sick,” You continue, a little desperately, “I really did appreciate your hunting, it was very impressive and the meat was very nice, I swear I didn’t mean to come across as ungrateful-”

Oh no, are those tears he sees shining in your eyes?

Tsu’tey feels as though he’s been frozen in place. He knows that his face is stuck in a confused scowl, but he can’t soften his expression no matter how hard he tries. Panic starts to curdle in his stomach. He may be a seasoned warrior, fearless in the face of fearsome opponents, but he finds himself at a total loss in this situation.

You just keep going – his silence seems to be making you even more upset. “I never meant to offend you, and I’m so, so sorry if I have. I never meant to make you angry-”

Finally, Tsu’tey manages to find his voice. “I am not angry.”

Even he has to admit that he doesn’t sound particularly convincing, but he’s never been an eloquent person. How does he explain that he’s not angry at you, he’s frustrated with himself? Right now, with you staring up at him with your eyelashes all wet and clumped together as your lower lip trembles, he feels like kicking his own ass.

He needs to make his move now, he realises wildly. Be conciliatory, he thinks. Let her know you are interested.

His voice sticks in his throat, but he manages to push the words out. They come out slightly strangled, but semi-confident all the same.

“Would you like to come fishing?”

You hesitate, and Tsu’tey feels his heart seize in his chest – you’re not going to turn him down, are you?

“Would I-” You begin, face crumpling. “What?”

Despite all the similarities in your bodies and faces, Tsu’tey finds himself floundering when it comes to reading your expressions. Is that disappointment? Confusion? Anger? It’s so difficult to tell with your tiny blunt ears and lack of a tail.

“Fishing.” He repeats. His own tail lashes restlessly, the only part of his body that moves at all. “Come and watch me fish.”

It doesn’t come out quite as smoothly as he had planned in his head the night before, sounding a little more like an order than an invitation, but Tsu’tey thinks it’s a victory just to get the words out at all.

You look a little lost, but you nod all the same. Your tears are blinked away, your expression smoothing a little. Is Tsu’tey imagining it, or do you look hopeful?

“I- alright.” You swallow, and your hands reach up to tug at your hair in what appears to be a compulsive sort of movement. “Yes. Fishing. Right.”

Tsu’tey barely stifles his reaction. A success. He can’t stop his ears from pricking up, but otherwise he tries to appear neutral – he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Come then.”

Just like before, you follow him readily through the jungle. He is careful to keep his back to you – it is a display of trust, to show off his conviction that you will do him no harm. It is mostly symbolic in your case, considering that you are unlikely to cause him any real harm even if you wanted to, but he is determined to carry out these courting rituals correctly even if the rest of this courtship is unconventional.

His ears are pricked the whole time for signs of danger or any other signs of life approaching, and to ensure that you are close behind as the two of you make your way towards the river winding towards the Omaticaya stronghold.

“You don’t have a fishing rod.” You say when you both finally reach the river.

Tsu’tey has no idea what you’re talking about, but it sounds as though you’re doubting his ability to fish.

He frowns, turning to squint at you – is this a challenge? Do you require him to prove his prowess right away? Displays of physical prowess and skill are part of the courting process, but he had thought that he had already done that with the hunt you had witnessed. But then again, the meat from the prey of that particular hunt had made you sick – perhaps you had decided not to count that hunt as an official courting display.

You stare back at him, looking perfectly innocent, if a little confused.

Fine. Tsu’tey straightens his back, and pulls his bow from his back. If it’s a display of prowess that you want, that’s what you’ll get.

In one smooth movement, he draws, nocks, and looses an arrow. It lands true, hitting home in the sleek, smooth body of a large fish that has just darted out from behind a stone lodged in the riverbank.

You let out a startled sort of sound, but lean forward quickly as Tsu’tey strides into the water and reaches for his catch. He had been planning on drawing this fishing display out a little longer, but it seems that you’re a demanding little thing. He doesn’t mind that; if anything, it will make satisfying you all the more exciting.

He retrieves his catch and holds it up for you to see. The fish is a large one, and it glints in the sweet sunshine that streams through the canopy of trees above you. It is a catch to be proud of, but he is careful not to be too pleased with himself until you react.

You laugh at the sight of the smooth glinting silver surface of his catch, clapping your hands together.

“Oh!” You call out, and you sound delighted. “Amazing! You make it look so easy!”

The praise sends a pleasant warmth effusing through his chest, and he feels a slow, hesitant grin begin to spread across his face.

“I am good at providing.” He tells you earnestly, stepping forward. He snaps off the long shaft of the arrow before proffering the fish towards you for your inspection.

You glance down, still smiling, but you don’t look particularly closely at his catch. That dulls some of his satisfaction – he glances down at the fish himself, wondering if there was something about it you found lacking.

“I know.” You murmur, tilting your head as you gaze up at him with lidded eyes. “You’re strong.”

His ears twitch like a child’s, and he nods, pleased. Hearing those words coming from the person he has chosen as a prospective mate fills him with a type of excitement that he has never experienced before. As a tawtute, you cannot connect with Eywa or with the People; but in this moment, Tsu’tey feels as though you see him anyway.

He swallows, and sets his catch aside in the pouch at his waist. He feels flustered in a way that is entirely unlike him, and he has to push his reactions down deep. He doesn’t want you to think of him as a silly little youngling – he wants you to see that he has taken this decision to court you seriously.

Time for the next step.

“We are close to an area where the Tsahìk gathers her herbs for medicine,” He says, clearing his throat as he turns to look at you with wide, earnest eyes. “I have offered to collect some for her. Would you like to help?”

Plants have always fascinated you – he knows that the original reason that you came to his planet was to study the wildlife and the flora. He waits, hoping that he’s right in thinking that this is something you will enjoy.

Your strange, sweet little face brightens. “Really?”

Tsu’tey nods, relieved by your reaction. “You would like this?”

“Yes!” You breathe. For the first time since he had approached you, you relax in earnest and Tsu’tey finds himself mirroring you.

He reaches out and cups your elbow as he helps you step over a log, and he doesn’t miss the little shiver and quick glance that you send towards his hand where it’s wrapped around your arm. It seems like you’re just as taken with the size difference between you as he is, and his lips begin to curl in excitement at the realisation.

This is good, He thinks, biting at the inside of his cheek. He is very slow to remove his hand, and you make no move to shake him off. Very good.

Tsu’tey does not want to speak too soon, but he feels as though his courting attempts are going very well indeed.

You had loved gathering the medicinal herbs with him, even more than he had hoped – you had badgered him with questions, curious about the names of the plants and their properties and their appearances, and you had bounded along at his side with a bright grin the whole time. It had pleased him greatly to experience your interest in the ways of the Omaticaya and the life of his planet; it was proof that you could be taught, that you were willing to learn.

And most thrillingly of all, you were receptive to his advances. Over the next couple of days, he continues with his cautious attempts at approaching you with little gestures.

When he gives you flowers and pretty leaves, you take them with brilliant, near-blinding smiles. Every time he shows off by flexing or practicing wrestling with the other warriors, you watch with interested eyes and tiny smiles. Whenever he tentatively touches you, small brushes to your shoulders or hands or waist, you never flinch away – on several occasions, you lean into him.

He tries not to let it go to his head, but it’s difficult. Since he’s started to admit his urges and his attraction to you, he swears it’s gotten worse. It feels like all he thinks about is you. He’s distracted during training, during his duties, during meals. He thinks about your reactions to his offerings, to your smiles, your scent, your voice. It really does feel like an illness, but it’s one he’s beginning to come to terms with if it means having you close by.

It’s beginning to get more difficult to keep his hands to himself. Traditionally, at this point in a courtship it would be acceptable for a courting pair to exchange flirtatious touches and other little intimacies, but Tsu’tey is aware that this is not exactly a conventional courtship.

He’s trying to be careful, to avoid spooking you or making you uncomfortable or uneasy, but it’s beginning to wear on him. Though he’s getting bolder with his little touches, it’s not enough to quench the skin-hunger growing in him.

But no matter. The courtship is going well, and moving at a good pace. The next step is one of the most important ones.

His carefully woven courtship necklace has been completed. It is customary to present a potential mate with a statement piece of jewelry, and Tsu’tey has spent several late nights fussing over the finishing touches. He recognises on some level that he’s stalling; it’s not in his nature to be nervous, but he’s beginning to grow nearly obsessive about getting the necklace as perfect as possible. It has been crafted to fit you exactly, with fibres and beads selected by him personally based on what he thinks you would like and what he thinks would suit your features.

The finished product is eye-catching, and Tsu’tey feels nearly delirious at the thought of it decorating your neck.

He crushes any semblance of nerves as best as he can, just like he might have done before a big hunt.

Of course you will accept his mating advances. Why wouldn't you? He is a strong warrior, a protector, desired by a great number of women. He could likely pick any woman he wanted out of the available women in the clan, and they would be honoured. Why would you be any different? You may be difficult to read at times, but he has laid his intentions out loud and clear and you have not shied away. You would accept him.

His mating necklace for you feels like it’s weighing him down as he steps through the village. It’s tucked safely into the pouch at his waist, though his hand keeps drifting to his hip to check that it’s still there. He’s not unaware of the looks he gets as he makes his way towards the edge of the encampment, but he ignores them. No doubt many of his people have guessed at what he’s up to, but he can’t give them his attention right now; he’s too focused on you, now that he spots you sitting next to one of the large pxiut trees.

Your head is bowed over your silly little notebook, lost entirely in your own world. Tsu’tey’s steps slow as he approaches you, taking the opportunity to drink in the sight of you while you’re unaware of his gaze.

His eyes track over the curves of your strange features, the slope of your alien nose, the arch of your neck. Your features may be exotic, but he’s finally beginning to admit to himself what he’s been trying to deny for a while now – you’re attractive to him.

He likes your weird little face, your odd five-fingered hands, your thick silly accent when you speak his language. He likes that you are so much smaller than him, he likes that you are soft.

He appreciates that you are patient with him, too. He knows he can be gruff and surly, and most people find him off-putting or intimidating, especially when they don’t know him. But you – you’re so calm and sweet, and you never seem to care when he’s stoically silent beside you. Most of the time when he’s around you, most of his brain-power goes into trying to keep his hands to himself, and he doesn’t have much intellectual power left to attempt conversation. He’s content with simply listening to you about whatever it is you wish to talk about, occasionally chiming in to ask a question or just to hum gently to show you he’s listening.

As he watches, you shift where you’re sitting and reach up to scratch absently at your neck. Beneath your odd human garments, your skin is glowing lightly with a thin sheen of sweat. Tsu’tey finds his eyes tracking over your exposed skin like a moron, and he clenches his jaw as he pulls himself together.

You're a warrior, you're a warrior, you’re a warrior, he chants in his head. He would not be cowed or intimidated by a tiny human.

You raise your head as he approaches, and a smile unfolds across your face. Your expression is bright, full of pure innocent happiness just to see him. He wavers, and nearly turns right back around.

“Hey, big guy.” You call out, setting your notebook aside as you beam at him.

You’re waiting for him to join you, he realises. He jolts forward, his previously confident stride turning a little jerky under your sharp eyes.

“Hello, little demon.” He murmurs, keeping his voice low and level.

You bite at your lip, still watching him with that little smile on your face. He watches you back just as closely, even as he sinks down to sit next with you. Your smile melts into a little look of surprise; usually, when he comes to you it’s so he can invite you somewhere else, either to show you something or to give you something. Joining you as you just sit is new for both of you.

For a moment, you’re both quiet. It seems like you’re waiting on him to speak, but he stays silent. He’s trying to compose himself, to appear cool and calm as he reaches his hand towards the woven bag slung around his waist.

Finally, he says, “I have something for you.”

It comes out impressively calm and level. While he’s not a man prone to nerves or to doubting himself, this is entirely new territory for him. When your expression brightens into a look of excitement, he feels a new little seed of confidence build in his chest. You’re anticipating his gift, you want it.

When he slips his hand into his bag, you sit up onto your knees so that you can watch him. Over the last few weeks, you’ve gotten used to receiving little flowers, plants, beads, or little carved figures. You accept each one with your usual brilliant, sweet smile; the thought of how you may smile at him when he gives you the necklace makes Tsu’tey’s tail flick eagerly.

He pulls it carefully out and hands it to you. As you take it your fingers brush his, and he twitches slightly as he stares at how small your hands are next to his.

“Oh,” You breathe, lifting up the necklace to eye level so you can get a good look at it. “I… Really? For me?”

“Yes.” He says simply, his eyes sharp and alert as they drink in every minute flicker that crosses your face. What are you thinking?

“It…” You begin, and then pause. Tsu’tey is just beginning to feel like crawling out of his skin when you slowly continue. “Tsu’tey, it’s beautiful.”

You so rarely say his name, choosing instead to call him variations of big guy, and he feels a near physical jolt run down his spine at the sound of it in your mouth. He wants to hear you say it again.

He just hums, still watching your face. You are examining the necklace intently, fingering the beads and the weavework, and he feels his pride inflate the longer you inspect his work. You are giving real, earnest thought to his offering rather than simply making your decision rashly. He respects this, and revels under the careful consideration you’re giving his proposal.

“You like it?” He murmurs. His voice comes out rougher than he had intended, and you jerk your head up to look at him.

Like this, your faces are very close together. Tsu’tey had leaned closer unconsciously as you were examining the necklace, and he makes no attempt to back off. Likewise, you make no attempt to retreat either, blinking up at him from behind the odd clear surface of your bubble-like mask.

“Yes,” You whisper, a shy, cautious smile beginning to bloom across your face. “Did you make this yourself?”

Tsu’tey just huffs. What sort of fool wouldn’t make their mating offering themselves?

“Of course.”

“Oh.” You bite at your lip. You seem to be trying to suppress your smile, though he can’t imagine why. He wants to see it, now more than ever.

You are certainly not racing to give him an answer. Your fingers trace over the beads, taking your time to admire the craftsmanship. Your obvious appreciation is certainly inflating his ego, but the longer you go without giving him a firm answer, the more agitated he gets. He hides it as best as he can, aiming to appear cool and unflappable. He is a warrior – he doesn’t want you to think of him as someone who is easily ruffled.

When you finally turn to look up at him, your eyes are shining. He can’t help but sit up a little straighter, watching you very carefully as he awaits your decision.

You proffer the necklace back to him, and Tsu’tey feels his stomach positively plummet. He truly hadn’t considered what he would do if you refused him.

“Will you help me put it on?” You ask, a little shyly.

The relief nearly bowls him over. Tsu’tey swears his stomach jolts so violently that he nearly makes a truly undignified sound. You are not refusing him – you wish for assistance.

“Yes.” He says lowly and seriously, taking the necklace back.

You beam again, then turn your back to him and bow your head to give him access to your neck. Tsu’tey’s heart thumps dully in his chest at the display of trust and vulnerability, though he keeps his face carefully still.

As he reaches out and slips the necklace around your neck, he gives in to his weakness and allows his fingers to drift over your shoulder. Your skin is so soft, your frame lacking the lean hard musculature that is so common among his own people, and he allows himself a moment to admire the feeling of you beneath his hands before finally beginning to tie the two ends of the necklace together.

He can feel you breathing carefully beneath his hands, the steady rise and fall of your chest matching the thumping rhythm of his own heart. The blood is rushing through his ears as his knuckles brush over one of the knobs of your spine at the base of your neck and you shiver in response.

Success, his instincts are screaming at him. Success.

When he finally pulls his hands back, you turn to look at him through your eyelashes behind your breathing mask. The corner of his mouth twitches as he eyes the way the necklace sits above your collarbones; a perfect fit.

It probably goes without saying that you have accepted his advances, but the customs of the Sky People are odd and he wants to make certain.

“You accept, then?” He asks, reaching out and settling his fingers over the woven fibres of the necklace. You’re small under his hand – his fingers reach one of your shoulders and his palm reaches the other, dwarfing you.

Your head tilts, a little frown creasing your brow, before you smile and nod. “Of course I accept it. It’s very lovely. I’m honoured. I didn’t know that you made your own jewelry.”

The last piece of mating jewelry he had crafted had been a bracelet for Sylwanin. It’s not something that he wants to think about right now, so he shrugs roughly.

“I do not, usually. This is different.”

“Oh.” You say, a little breathlessly.

Tsu’tey’s tail twitches recklessly. It’s time for the next step.

“I would take you to my hut.” He begins cautiously, watching your face. “It is finished now. I have made it comfortable.”

You blink, and take a careful breath. He wonders what you’re thinking.

“I would like that.” You say quietly, your eyes drifting towards his tail, which is twitching as he awaits your answer.

Triumph soars in his chest, and a slow smile begins to spread over his face. This feels better than any hunt, any accolade, any success he has previously enjoyed. This one is his and his alone – you see him, you want to be his just as he wants to be yours.

You appear to get flustered, and look down at his twitching tail in an apparent effort to distract yourself. You watch the movement, your own lips beginning to curve, before you reach out to touch it.

Tsu’tey goes entirely still, his eyes flaring wider in surprise. He doesn’t pull away, watching intently as your fingers trail over the thin, sensitive skin of his tail. It is bold of you, so bold it nearly steals his breath away.

“You’re like a cat.” You say, and laugh.

Tsu’tey has no idea what that means, and just continues to stare at you. You’re still holding his tail in your warm, soft hand. The fact that he isn’t pulling away seems to embolden you even more, before you start to bite your lip as you look up at him.

Tsu’tey takes a soft, quiet breath – do you even know what you’re doing to him right now? Desire is beginning to pool, dark and hot, in his belly as your fingers stroke absently over the thin skin of his tail, your liquid eyes gazing up at him with that shy, enigmatic little smile playing over your face.

Slow and steady, he tells himself firmly, fighting to stay composed. He doesn’t want to scare you away by moving too quickly, but your soft warm hands and sweet little smiles are making it terribly difficult. He wants to touch you back, but he doesn’t want to startle you.

“Sorry,” You murmur, apparently growing self-conscious. You begin to pull back. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You may touch me.” He interrupts before you pull too far back. He has been intimate with women before, but this moment with you feels infinitely more intimate and illicit than anything he has experienced before.

You watch him in return, eyes bright. Is he imagining the excitement on your face, mirroring his own feelings?

Slowly, you trace up his tail. His skin shivers under your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, he leans in a little closer as your fingers move from his tail to his chest, tracing over the lighter stripes on his skin. It feels as though your touch is leaving trails of heat in its wake, and he fights to keep his breathing steady and even as your eyes follow the path of your fingers.

His own fingers twitch, but he keeps his hands to himself. He wants to give this to you, to allow you the opportunity to be in charge of this moment. You’ve always been curious, and watching you exploring his own body only stokes his desire – but he holds back. He will be patient, and he will take this slow. He wants to do this whole thing right.

Your fingers trail down over the defined muscles of his abdomen, and he flexes entirely on instinct. You must like what you see, because your smile turns bashful as you trace your way around his waist.

He’s so preoccupied with watching your face that he doesn’t watch where your hands go next. It means that he is taken entirely by surprise when he feels your delicate, small fingers wrap around his kuru.

His back goes ramrod straight, his eyes flaring wide in shock. It was an innocent touch, only wrapping around the protective braid curiously, but the sheer fact that his prospective mate, wearing the mating gift he had made, holds the most intimate and sacred part of him in their hands has his toes curling into the dirt where you sit.

A jolt of pure, liquid elation jolts down his spine. No partner of his has ever touched his kuru – it was saved specifically for a mate. And though you may not be capable of making tsaheylu with him, the sheer sensation of you holding this sacred part of him nearly makes his vision white out.

“Oh!” He hears your voice say as though from a distance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep-!”

He’s sure his pupils are blown wide, his ears alert and hot. He wants to reassure you that your overstep is most welcome, but it feels as though his brain has half-melted.

“Tsu’tey?”

He comes back to himself, though his thoughts are still scattered. As he regains some of his awareness, he realises that his desire is beginning to grow obvious beneath his loincloth.

Fuck. He was meant to be taking it slow! He couldn’t invite you to his hut and then grow so visibly aroused in front of you; it was not honourable, and he did not want you to feel pressured.

He lurches backwards, nearly sprawling in the dirt. It’s a graceless movement, ungainly and unlike him, but then again all of this is entirely outside of his realm of experience.

You’re staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, your hand still raised in midair.

“I have to go.” He says sharply, pushing himself to his feet. It’s all he can think to do to preserve both of your dignities before he ruins his careful courtship plans with his own reckless desires.

“But-” You start, your face crumpling. “Am I still invited-”

“I must go,” He repeats, hastily angling himself so that you can’t see his front.

He takes several firm steps away before hesitating, then turns back to look at you. “Tomorrow. You may come back tomorrow.”

You still look utterly bewildered, but Tsu’tey hurries away all the same. As he goes, he adjusts his tewng as surreptitiously as possible.

Despite his tactical retreat, he feels more optimistic than he has in a long time. As he approaches the village he feels a feral triumphant grin begin to grow over his face. That likely could have gone smoother at the end, but overall he finds himself feeling impossibly pleased with himself.

He has succeeded at his attempt at courting a human, and he has done so without Jakesully’s help. You have accepted all his gifts, you agreed to come and see his hut, and judging by the way you had groped at his tail and his kuru, physical attraction certainly wouldn’t be a problem for either of you.

It has left him excited for tomorrow, and yearning for more of your soft little hands against his skin.

Tags

recs tsutey tsutey x reader tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan

Good Night For Company

"Would you mind if I kissed you?" Sometimes you need to feel lonely before you notice the person sitting right beside you.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Kissing, Accidental Cuddling, Feelings Realization | SFW

Word Count: 5,443 [Read on AO3]

Sometimes it was lonely to be the hero, she thought to herself.

Their camp was fuller and merrier than she’d ever seen it. Every last Tiefling she’d met at the Grove had joined them for a night of celebration, bringing along every last bottle of wine and spirits they could get their hands on as way of thanks.

Unsurprisingly, all eyes in camp seemed to be searching for someone else to spend the night with. Who could blame them? Mortal peril and hard-won victories tended light a fire in people, herself included.

Yet somehow she still found herself short on options. Everyone at camp seemed more interested in clapping her shoulder in thanks than joining her for a night of abandoned pleasure. Even her close companions hadn’t taken much interest in what she had on offer.

Astarion was the only one who had made her an invitation. She practically felt grateful to him for it. He would tempt anyone, of course—just look at him. But underneath his beauty, there was a dark edge about the elf that made her hesitate in the end. How was it Gale had described him? ‘A tiger when it purrs.’

Honestly, she wouldn’t have said no to Gale, either. He was certainly attractive, and there was a sad weight to his shoulders that seemed to invite comforting. The kind she wouldn’t mind giving. Yet despite the lonely shine in his eyes, he’d made it abundantly clear to her in his loquacious way that his mind was elsewhere this evening. She left him alone to his private reflections.

She at least expected their own cheerful Tiefling to be smack in the middle of the evening’s revelry. Tonight, Karlach was nowhere to be found. Only when she later glimpsed Shadowheart’s tent standing dark and noticeably empty did she put the pieces together.

Well, good for them. At least two of their group might have a chance at a lay tonight.

No such luck for her, it seemed. She raised the bottle of Ithbank to her lips and tried not to feel too sorry for herself. The last few days had been long, exhausting, positively brutal…her muscles ached from overuse. Really, a good night’s sleep should be more than enough to satisfy her.

And yet—how nice it would feel to be touched and held with tenderness, even if it wasn’t real, even just for one night. Just enjoy a harmless tumble in someone’s bedroll before everything crashed around them again. The thought of the long road that would greet her in the morning made her groan, and she shook the thought away.

It hardly helped her souring mood to see Danis and Bex practically sitting in each others’ laps in the middle of camp, gently knocking their horns together with affection. She averted her eyes and took a rather resentful swig of wine as she trudged past.

“Go on then, give us a show!”

Teasing laughter came from just ahead. At the edge of camp, she happened upon the three Tiefling siblings from the Grove. Rolan, the oldest, stood flexing his hands as if preparing for an impressive feat. As she approached, she thought for just a moment that he glanced in her direction.

His brother Cal heckled him mercilessly from the rock where he and Lia were perched. “Lose your nerve, wiz?”

Rolan sighed, long-suffering. “Have you no respect for showmanship?” Not leaving time for any more smart comments, he flourished his hands upward with a low incantation.

The effect was like tiny stars, or fireflies, or some combination of the two. Sparkling lights spread and popped above their heads, leaving behind a violet mist that gently faded into the night.

She found herself smiling up at the sky. It wasn’t a powerful display, but it was lovely nonetheless. And certainly unique. She wondered how one went about inventing a Weave spell; she wouldn’t know where to begin.

Tucking the bottle against her chest, she offered a little round of applause. Cal looked over at her then and let out a groan of amusement. “Not you, now he’ll keep at it all night.”

"Shut it," Rolan shot at him, positively glowering. Lia was clutching her side in laughter at his expense.

Two against one; that was siblings for you. She was in a newly generous mood after his pretty magic, however, and decided to lend Rolan a hand.

"Surprised you're still here," she said, cocking her head toward Cal. "Last I heard, Lakrissa was looking for you."

Cal's neck practically snapped with how quickly he craned it around camp. Lia turned her mirth on him, aiming a punch at his shoulder.

"As if, you idiot," she chuckled. "She's only about ten times out of your league."

"You don't know that," Cal told her, completely thrown off teasing his brother as he rose to look around the party hopefully. "She told me I had a good parry one time—I could have a chance—"

As he wandered off, Lia threw up her hands and rose to follow him. "Guess I'll go save Lakrissa. Or maybe just watch what happens. Nice one," Lia added over her shoulder, grinning appreciatively at her.

She and Rolan were left standing alone to the side. There was some awkward shuffling of feet; somewhere past the campfire, Volo launched into his third stanza of Tymora's Melody. A song to make people lucky, she seemed to recall. A suggestive choice for the night.

"Drink?" She broke the silence, offering out the bottle of wine. Relief flooded Rolan’s face.

"Gods, please." He accepted and took a generous pull.

"You certainly have your hands full with those two, don’t you." She bit back a grin at the way his brow crinkled in response.

"They are…" Rolan cast around for the word. "Challenging. But I don't have to tell you that," he added, glancing sideways at her. "We were bickering the first moment you met us."

"That's just family, though," she laughed, taking the wine back from him. Their fingers brushed together slightly over the bottle.

“Nevertheless. My thanks.” He waved his hand in a general motion, but she could tell he meant her intervention before.

“Don’t mention it,” she told him.

Seeking a reprieve from the merry music and voices around them, her feet idly made their way toward the edge of the fire's light closer to the riverbank. From the corner of her eye she saw Rolan follow. They settled on a log of driftwood that faced the scenes at camp.

"So, you're finally making your way to Baldur's Gate," she said. It wasn't a question; he'd already told everyone who would listen about his apprenticeship with Lorroakan of Ramazith.

"Finally.” His eyes glowed with pure enthusiasm. "You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. The slightest delay has felt like an eternity.”

“And Cal and Lia? They must be excited, too.”

“Of course” he said, though his lips raised in a little smirk. “They’ve never been to the Gate, so they don’t quite know what to expect. But they’re just as eager.”

She watched him for a moment as she turned the bottle over in her hands. "You're quite sure of yourself, aren't you."

Rolan looked at her with a challenging expression. “Tell me, in our position, what else is there we can be sure of?"

He almost made her regret herself. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just that you’re very—”

“I expect most wouldn’t guess that a hellspawn could earn a position under the greatest archmage on the Sword Coast,” Rolan said before she could finish.

His moods were volatile as a storm; turning this way and that without warning. She was never sure what to expect from him. Before she could protest his assumptions about her, he continued onward.

"We three never had much between us, you know." Rolan’s voice was abruptly low and bitter. "Somehow we've got less now than we started with. Not even our birthplace anymore. The one thing I’m sure of is my magical talent. I'm not going to deny it for the sake of being modest—" he tossed the words out with contempt. "Not when it's the one thing I always knew I had in spades. With the right instruction, I could be inimitable."

She studied his determined profile in the half-light of the campfire. Perhaps there were more layers to his self-important attitude than she'd thought. After all, without him taking on the challenging role that awaited him in the city, Rolan and his siblings found themselves in much the same position as the other refugees milling about camp tonight. A heavy weight despite his obvious enthusiasm. Who was she to judge him, or any of them?

Rolan finally caught her watching him and cleared his throat. "Forgive me, I think I've—had too much wine."

"Oh?" She gave the bottle a swirl; it was still more than half-full. "You're making pretty good sense to me."

"I don't usually speak so freely with strangers," he explained tersely, glancing away.

She pondered the comment over another sip. "Does that make us friends, then?" She asked, not sure if she was being serious or trying to tease him. He did seem like he'd be awfully fun to tease.

"That's a little premature," he said dryly, but he glanced at her with a serious look. "Though I suppose, given recent events, you've earned it."

"A roundabout way to say yes," she laughed. "But I'll take it."

Rolan only made a low, grumpy noise in his throat. But he didn't challenge her.

“I’m really glad you three stayed, you know,” she told him. “I know you were against it. It certainly wasn’t the easy choice.”

Rolan plucked a bit of dry grass from between his boots, twisted it between his fingers. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Once Lia gets an idea in her head to save some poor thing or other, there’s no arguing with her. And she knows I'd never leave her behind.”

"You say that, but anyone with eyes can see the way those two look to you for guidance. They would've followed you down either path."

"Not like us staying even made a difference," Rolan deflected, tossing the ball of grass onto the dirt in front of them. "We only lost a few more traveling days waiting around while you and your friends took care of everything. For which, I suppose, we owe you thanks," he finished sarcastically.

"I suppose," she said lightly. But she was looking straight at him.

Rolan was clever enough to realize he was being chastised. He let out a sigh, but dipped his horns to her in resignation. "Thank you."

She only smiled at him and offered back the wine in response. He accepted without comment.

Watching him tip back the bottle, she mentally fit another piece to his puzzle. "You don't like feeling powerless, do you?"

Rolan looked sideways at her. "Does anyone? Do you?"

"No," she replied, feeling a little foolish for asking. When he passed it back, she drank deeply from the bottle, grounded by the burn that traveled down her throat.

"That must make your situation difficult." Rolan was watching her almost cautiously, as if the subject should be carefully tread.

"The tadpole, you mean?" She spoke it aloud, not wanting him to feel any suspense about the subject. How the thought could fill her with dread and a kind of dark humor at the same time was beyond her. Maybe the worm in her brain was finally driving her mad after all.

"First I had to talk Nettie out of giving me a lobotomy. Then I thought the renowned First Druid Halsin might be able to heal me, but no luck. I even thought that crazy goblin priestess could have something up her sleeve." She gave a mirthless laugh, starting to feel the weariness closing around her again. "Suppose I just need to keep searching, right? Halsin thinks we might find answers in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Or maybe the cure is in Baldur's Gate. Who knows," she added, glancing over at him. "Maybe your Lorroakan could know the solution, if he's as powerful as you say."

"He is," Rolan answered automatically. His luminous eyes were sharp with enthusiasm as he watched her. "When you get to the city, come see me at Sorcerous Sundries. If a cure exists, it'll be recorded somewhere in the library of Ramazith’s Tower, I'm sure of it. I’ll even research it, if I have time."

Inwardly she hoped they'd all be cured far earlier than that. But she was touched by his sudden helpfulness, even if it was half to prove the powers of his new station.

“Thank you, Rolan,” she smiled. “I appreciate it.”

He dipped his horns wordlessly toward her again. It was a gesture she was beginning to recognize, and grow rather fond of. She offered him their wine bottle in thanks.

From there they both let the moment drift. Seated on their log near the riverbank, she turned to watch how the rest of the revelry was progressing. Alfira had joined Volo in some kind of bardic duel; a rapid-fire melody drifted out to where the two of them sat. Lia appeared to be bravely trying her luck with Lae'zel. Judging by Lae'zel's very non-subtle body language, she was actually getting somewhere.

And to her disbelief, she even saw Cal and Lakrissa sitting together at the fire, engaged in what looked like a very friendly, very close conversation. Was it seriously everyone's night but hers?

She glanced to Rolan's face at her side. He wasn't paying attention to her; his fingers rolled the neck of their shared drink idly back and forth.

It should've occurred to her sooner, honestly. Despite Rolan's initial bluster, she found it surprisingly easy to speak with him one-on-one like this. He had a depth she hadn't noticed before.

And he wasn't bad to look at, either. Golden eyes set against inky black, strong jawline, lips that often curved up in a little smirk that she wasn't sure he deserved but found charming despite herself. She decided to dispense with caution and just try her luck.

"Would you mind if I kissed you?"

“What?” Rolan's head jerked around as he stared at her. "Why?"

"I don't know," she admitted. Maybe this was a bad idea; the shock on his face made her question her own boldness. But then she thought of his pretty spellwork. "Because you're the only person who's made me smile tonight."

Rolan examined her expression as though trying to tell whether she was joking. "We barely know each other," he said slowly.

She gestured her head toward the crowded clearing. "I mean, I didn’t know any of these people a few weeks ago. And now look at us. We’re practically family at this point.” She turned back toward him. "Besides, maybe I'd like to get to know you better?"

Rolan cast around for a response to that. "I suppose you're not…unattractive," he conceded. Although the nervous movement of his fingers gave him away a little.

"Know how to make a girl feel special, don't you," she laughed. "Look, Rolan, say no if you don't want to. I'm not after anything serious. It's just a good night for some company, and honestly, I’ve enjoyed talking to you."

Rolan was considering it; she could practically see his mind ticking between his options. "You're quite tenacious, aren't you?" He told her, the hint of a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"When I want something," she agreed.

Something in the words seemed to tip his decision. She watched Rolan's eyes flick down to her lips.

Taking that as a yes, she tilted forward to press them against his. His skin was warm and softer than she expected. Rolan didn't move against her, in fact was practically frozen still. She couldn't tell whether he was inexperienced or just out of practice. Regardless, she pulled away to look at him through her lashes, checking his expression.

This close his golden eyes almost seemed to blaze. She watched them move over her face, taking in her features up close. When he realized she wasn't going to initiate again, Rolan leaned in for another kiss.

Definitely not inexperienced, she decided, as his lips slid and moved softly over hers. She breathed in and smelled smoke and wine and something spiced; a pleasant warmth coiled in her stomach. He sighed into the kiss, apparently feeling something similar.

She felt a tentative hand rest on the side of her waist. Without breaking from him, she scooted sideways to get a little closer, inadvertently pressing her leg up against his. Rolan made no objection, only circled his arm further around her back.

It was the nicest feeling. Being held by a firm yet gentle touch, sharing kisses that flowed from sweet to eager to shy and back again. How long had it been? The longer Rolan's mouth moved over hers, the less she cared about remembering.

She hooked her arms over his shoulders to keep him close. As she tilted her chin for a better angle at his mouth, she took a chance and ran her tongue along his bottom lip. Rolan’s fingers dug slightly deeper into her side, but his lips parted to allow her in.

She felt a thrill run through her as their tongues melted together. They tasted each other softly for a moment; unconsciously, she combed her fingers up through the hair at his nape.

Rolan broke away gently at the feeling. She grew suddenly shy when their eyes met again, and she cast around for something to fill the silence.

"Why do you hide your ears behind your hair like that?” She wondered aloud. “They’re lovely." As she spoke, one of her index fingers went to tuck a lock of his hair back behind the long, pointed arrow of his ear, grazing against it with curiosity. Before she could blink, his hand caught hers to pull it away.

"Don't—" Rolan said abruptly, then let out a nervous laugh to break the tension. “Tiefling ears are…quite sensitive.”

"Oh," she said. His meaning sunk in the rest of the way. “Oh—I’m so sorry, I didn't realize—" The heat of embarrassment on her cheeks could have melted her.

"It’s all right,” he told her, laughing genuinely now. “Gods, your face is almost as red as mine.”

Rolan was even more handsome with a real, true smile on his face. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen one there before. Before she’d found a response, his grip on her wrist was gently pulling her arm over his shoulder, and her body closer to him with it.

She decided another kiss would shut up his teasing nicely. She followed his lead and then some, wrapping both arms around his lovely shoulders, melting against his lips again. He said something against her, but the words dissolved into a hum that sent a pleasant shiver down her back.

Finally, Rolan succeeded in pulling away to glance back toward the center of camp. "Sorry," he said breathlessly, and it sounded like he truly was. "I just—don't want you to face uncomfortable questions in the morning."

No doubt his siblings' teasing was another factor, but she didn't call him out on it. While she appreciated his chivalry, all she could think about was getting his mouth under hers again.

"We could go to my tent?" She suggested.

For all the cockiness he'd spouted from the first moment she met him, she felt Rolan's hands almost seize up around her.

The feeling made her bite back a grin. "I'd just like to kiss you some more," she said, tracing her thumb against his jaw. "We don't have to do anything else. It would just be more private. And more comfortable."

Rolan licked his lips, unsure. “Won’t that be even more obvious?”

“I don’t think this crowd’s going to notice much at this point…” She turned with arms still around him to look over the scenes near the campfire, and Rolan's gaze followed. The generous flow of alcohol was taking a clear effect on most of the faces gathered here and there. Around the fire’s edge, Alfira was leading many of her fellows in a rousing ballad that she didn’t recognize. Most voices were noticeably off-key.

“Come on,” she invited Rolan, rising with one of his hands in hers. He made no protests as she led him around the edge of camp, trying to stay out of the more obvious sightlines, and towards her empty tent. When she held the flap open for him, he ducked in quickly without a word, and she followed.

Inside, the light from the roaring campfire filtered dimly through the fabric walls. She watched Rolan’s luminous eyes glance around, taking in her personal effects, finally landing on her open bedroll. He swallowed hard.

“Just sit,” she told him, guiding him by the arm down beside her. They settled side-by-side on the blankets. Somehow the mood between them was back to the initial uncertainty of before, as if they hadn’t already shared a score of kisses.

“Your tent smells like you,” he said out of nowhere.

"Really?" She chuckled, but the observation somehow made her very nervous. “Not sure if I want to ask what my smell is.”

“Balsam.” Rolan didn’t elaborate, only dipped his head swiftly to place lips under her jaw. Her laughter dissolved into a sigh of pleasure. Clawed hands snaked up around her side and down over her shoulder, tipping her torso into him. She let her head loll to the side to give him all the access he could want.

She’d forgotten all about his sharp incisors. As he kissed down the side of her neck, his warm breath sending a cascade of shivers over her spine, one of his fangs grazed her bare skin by accident. Her sharp intake of breath surprised even herself.

Rolan pulled away to look at her, uncertain if he’d done something right or wrong. She used the moment to capture him in a kiss again, sucking and nibbling on one side of his bottom lip, letting him know how right he was getting this.

She sank sideways into her bedroll, pulling him down with her with hands clasped behind his neck, trying to be mindful of his angling horns.

Rolan's arm rested comfortably over her side, nails whispering against her back as he held her. He was so gentle like this; so unlike the way he presented himself to others. The thought that she was seeing a side of Rolan most others didn’t get to see—she liked that thought very much. She tangled a hand in his hair as their kisses turned soft, and lovely, and almost lazy.

The security of his arms around her in her soft bedroll, the alcohol making its way rapidly to her brain, the exertions of the day straining along her limbs…she felt herself drifting toward a state of relaxation almost like sleep. She roused herself, wanting to kiss him back while she had him here. She wasn't sure when they'd get a chance like this next.

But Rolan gently disentangled their mouths for a moment. "Here," he said, scooting his arm under her neck like a pillow. She leaned against him with a comfortable sigh.

"Your arm's gonna fall asleep," she warned him, making no moves to shift the weight of her heavy head.

Rolan chuckled low in his chest. "I think you'll be doing that first."

She wanted to make a snappy response, but all that came out was a petulant groan against his lips.

This wasn't going at all the way she intended. She wasn't supposed to doze off, she was supposed to kiss the Tiefling wizard until he saw stars, like the ones he'd conjured for her.

Because he had conjured them for her—she told herself that with certainty, whether or not it was true. The sweet thought carried her toward sweet dreams, and the memory of them behind her eyelids was the last thing she saw before she drifted.

—

The call of an owl nearby pierced through her sleep. As her mind surfaced in the darkness, the first thing she was aware of was the pleasant weight of an arm across her. She sighed and settled comfortably back into the warm figure pressed up against her hips and shoulders. The mystery arm pulled her in tighter in response.

Things began slowly filtering back to her; the party the night before, and the wine, and Rolan, and—

Her eyes opened wide then. The interior of her tent was so dark that she could only make out blurry shapes. Outside, she heard nothing but crickets and a few more distant owls hooting; it must be well past midnight. The fire hadn't been tended for hours, judging by the absence of light reaching through the fabric walls. Presumably the rest of camp had all turned in long ago.

With the nervousness of a person who'd fallen asleep from drink, she shifted around a bit to confirm that yes, she was very much still fully clothed. Her toes flexed against hard leather; even her dusty boots were still on her feet. That answered that question, at least. She glanced down at the clothed arm over her stomach.

"Rolan?" She whispered through the dark.

She felt and heard his lips mumble something against her hair, and then Rolan's face nestled deep into the crook of her neck with a happy sigh. The intimate gesture made her bite her lip. She could feel his steady breaths tickle against her collarbone.

However much she might want to let him stay right there, forever, she knew she should wake him.

"Rolan," she whispered a little louder. Twisting a bit to free the arm under her side, she reached to gently pat the spot between his horns. She felt his hair rustle freely under her hand; its orderly tie must have come undone in the night.

Rolan inhaled sharply awake then. He lifted his head from her as if trying to cast around for where he was.

"We both fell asleep," she whispered, stating the obvious. She felt him tense up behind her as he took in his body's positioning: chest pressed against her back, one arm cradling her neck, the other wrapped tight around her waist to keep her pulled in close to him. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she even felt his tail twined around one of her legs.

Every part of him retreated from her at once as he lurched into a half-seated position. "I'm sorry," he apologized in a groggy whisper.

"It's fine," she assured him, wondering why he would assume she didn't enjoy the closeness as much as he clearly had in his sleep. "I think everyone else is asleep by now."

There was a long, quiet pause. Then Rolan began, “Did we…?”

“No,” she interjected with certainty.

"Thank Gods. I mean—" He cast around in the dark for one of her hands, realizing how that came out. "We both drank a lot, that's not how I want—it shouldn't be like that."

"I know." The sweet goodness of him made her heart swell.

Suddenly, Rolan grabbed his head with both hands. "Fuck," he hissed. "Lia and Cal."

"What about?"

"They'll know I didn't come back to our camp last night," he groaned low.

"Oh—okay," she said, trying to think; her brain was still fuzzy from the night's wine. "Well, maybe they'll just assume you got back late?"

“You don't understand, they know that I—” He cut himself off, and finished, “They already tease me about you.”

“Oh." She did her best to ignore the way that made her insides do a happy flip. But she couldn’t resist teasing a little herself. “Then maybe they’ll just assume you finally got lucky?”

His head fell against her shoulder with a groan, horns lightly knocking against her. “Please,” he begged.

“Sorry, Rolan—” She was instantly contrite, holding his head close to place kisses across his hair and forehead. "Listen, we've got an hour or two before dawn. Maybe you can sneak back and they won't know how late you were out. Where's your camp?"

"The bluffs just outside the Emerald Grove, with Lakrissa and the bard."

She knew the spot; they could easily reach there in a quarter hour on foot. But first, she scooted away and undid the flap of her tent to peer out for any signs of activity.

Everything outside was very still. She watched carefully for another moment just in case; near Wyll's tent, Scratch snuffled and buried his snout further against the owlbear cub's feathers. Beyond that, there were no signs of stirring in the camp.

She ducked back inside the tent for a moment. "C'mon—"

With quiet, shuffling feet, they crept out into the quiet moonlit night. Scratch's head raised silently in their direction. She stared into his dark eyes with a silent plea, begging him to be a good boy and stay quiet. He lowered his head back down without a sound. She swore to herself that she would find him the biggest, juiciest bone in the morning.

She grabbed Rolan's hand behind her and tugged him quietly through camp. They passed tent after tent filled with steady breathing, boots padding against the dirt in near-silence.

Once they were outside the ruined wall at the edge of the campsite, she let out her pent-up breath in relief.

Rolan kept his fingers twined firmly with hers as they walked through the moonlight. They talked about anything to fill the air, about things that didn't matter, both trying to stave off the impending end of their short night together.

Far sooner than felt fair, they rounded into a familiar clearing, and she knew his destination was just up the hill to their left.

"Well," she began, as they slowed to a stop.

Before she knew it, she was pulled against Rolan’s chest in a tight embrace. She folded herself into him as completely as she could manage, breathing deep and committing his scent to memory.

When they broke apart, he kept her close so he could see her face in the moonlight. "Which route will you take to reach the Shadow lands?"

"Through the Underdark if we can," she answered. "I wasn't sure about it, but we all took a vote after the fight yesterday. What about you three?"

"I don't know," Rolan said honestly. "It depends how Zevlor decides. We're all going to travel together as far as we can."

"Oh," she said. She ought to say something reassuring about how that was a wise tactical choice, but she was overcome with the realization that she might not see Rolan again for many weeks. Possibly not until they both reached Baldur's Gate.

In that moment, she fervently regretted not fucking this wonderful man into tomorrow when she'd had the chance—wine be damned. From the way Rolan was looking at her, she wondered if he was thinking the same.

Instead, she leaned in to kiss him one last time with everything she had. She wanted to remember the way his shoulders fit perfectly under her arms. Rolan’s grip closed around her middle, and in the next instant she felt her feet dangle weightless as he lifted her off the ground into him.

The kiss had to end eventually. As he lowered her onto her feet, she touched back down to dirt and reality.

“Your hair,” she gasped suddenly. It hung loose to his shoulders, his red ear tips poking from between the locks. It was a very handsome look for him.

Rolan raised a hand up in realization himself. “I’ll figure something—” he began, but she was already tugging at the leather lace that fastened her shirt. She raised it to her mouth to bite off a short length.

Before he could stop her, she stood on tiptoe to gather Rolan’s hair behind his head the way he usually kept it. Her arms circled him as she tied it halfway back with the makeshift string. She could feel his eyes on her face, but she steadily avoided meeting his gaze. She foolishly felt like she might cry if she did.

“There,” she sniffed as she pulled away.

Rolan only gave her a gentle smile. “Thank you,” he said, dipping his horns to her one more time.

Telling him goodbye hurt just to think about. “Good night,” she whispered to him instead.

“It has been,” Rolan agreed. “The very, very best.”

Tags

bg3 recs rolan x tav

413 notes View Post

silkfyre

1 year ago

Pretty Flower | N.L.

in which neville wants to ruin the reader.

warnings: smut, nsfw, corruption kink, soft dom!nev, sub!reader, fingering, overstimulation, fluff!!! (lmk if i missed any!)

fine..... if no one will write nev with a corruption kink then i suppose ill just have to do it myself.

(edit: this....... may have come out WAY longer than i wanted it to.... but.... i literally couldn’t stop writing....)

—

it hit him out of nowhere. he never saw it coming, nor never even anticipated the concept on its own. yet, when him and his friends walked on the bridge that day to get back to hogwarts after holding the first secret DA meeting in 5th year, everything seemed to flip.

it was a snowy day that day, the the snow painting white on the ground for miles. there wasn’t one single spot that hadn’t been left in ice. you decided to indulge in the weather that day, as winter had always been your favorite season. especially when it came to being at hogwarts, because winter just seemed so... different there.

you skipped along the bridge, humming an innocent lullaby to yourself as your feet had a mind of its own. you didn’t know where you were going, but you honestly didn’t seem to care either.

maybe it was fate that brought you two together that day, as you two had honestly crossed paths before, but never in a way like this.

you heard small chatter erupting from straight ahead of you, and you saw the group of intimating gryffindors you had always tried your best to stay away from. they weren’t bullies or anything of the sort, there bravery just really scared the bones out of you. you had always been more shy, timid, and honestly weaker. so, seeing the group practically made your skin crawl.

as you neared them, you expected just to simply walk past them, and them pay no mind to you. but before it happened, you heard hermione granger make a small joke about a girl named cho chang to the harry potter. it earned a few grins from the people in the group, and a frown from a girl in your year, ginny weasley. ginny was probably the only gryffindor you had the strength to speak to, as you two had been partnered up many times for different projects and assignments in your classes. little did you know, the whole group knew about you.

you mentally pleaded as you reached them, just planning on stepping out of the way without a word. but then:

“oh! hi, y/n!”

fuck.

you halted, grasping onto the strap of your bag a bit tighter,

“oh... hi?”

ginny had sent you the small greeting, and the whole group stopped.

“oh! y/n! how are you?” hermione chimed in, sending you a small smile, already noticing the slight trembling coming from you.

you glanced at the gryffindors, and gulped before responding,

“fine...” you breathed out, hands how shaky, “you?”

neville had always believed that he was shy, anxious for no reason, but when he saw you? his whole mindset changed. you were a whole different type of shy... innocent. your fragile voice imprinted itself into his mind, and he even furrowed his eyebrows at the thought.

“just fine! say... you wouldn’t happen to know any place we could hold—discreet meetings, would you?” hermione smirked, sending harry a wink.

you pondered for a moment, not knowing exactly what she was talking about, but definitely deciding that you did not want to get yourself involved.

“um—no... sorry...”

you glanced at the disappointment on their faces, and harry sighed.

“it’s fine... we’ll find a place ourselves, i suppose...” ron added, looking over at his two twin brothers who were seemingly plotting something.

“well... bye...” you muttered, looking down as you began to walk away.

hermione furrowed her eyebrows, “hey! wait a second!” she called out, and you turned around, still just wanting to get away from them. “you want to be apart of something cool?”

hermione and harry lightly explained it to you, and red flags went off in your head reminding you that this was breaking the rules, and that you would definitely get in loads of trouble if umbridge ever found out.

“well... i don’t know...” you uttered, looking down at your shoes,

ginny had ended up chiming in, trying her best to convince you. she knew how shy you were, and how things like this terrified you. but truthfully, they needed all the help they could get.

“o-o-okay... i-i-i guess?” you finally answered, and hermione squealed as she pulled out a list of names, and handed you a pen. “just sign your name!”

and you did so shakily, not even noticing how neville’s stare was practically shooting daggers into your figure.

and there it was, that was it. from that day forward, you had not only sealed the deal with the DA, but also with neville. from that day forward, the boy couldn’t get you out of his head. you were a consistent thought always, sensual and non-sensual.

you were what neville got off to in the night, thinking of your small whimpers and pleads just for him to keep going. and yes, he did feel guilty every time he saw you, as you were completely oblivious to his obsession with you. he would watch you as you left the room of requirement with ginny, thinking of all the things he wanted to do to you. he imagined your lips on his cock, that innocent look on your face when you would cum on all over him for the first time.

god, you were so fucking ethereal and you didn’t even realize it.

he had made small conversations with you over time, but you still managed to hide under that shy shell of yours. you were quite jittery, always looking over your shoulder.

and oh god, he loved to tease you.

he would never forget the first time he was trying to get past you on the way to class, and he simply placed his hand on your back for a moment, making you go cherry red in the face. or even when you had sat with ginny at breakfast one morning, and he purposely sat beside you just to every so often “accidentally” run his finger up your thigh. he loved when you squirmed from it, and oh god, he only imagined how much you would be squirming if you were under him.

as the year went by, you only caught on to him a little bit, but never to the point in confronting him about it. but even if you did, you would never have the guts to do so anyways. plus, you sorta enjoyed the small glances he shot you in the great hall, how he licked his lips at the sight of you.

you had absolutely no idea what you were doing to him.

—

year 6 for neville.

he was so excited to see you again, watch your innocence bloom. all he thought about was you over the holiday, and he seemed to actually miss you. he had somehow managed to lose his virginity over the summer, and practice on how to properly pleasure a girl.

oh yeah. he was prepared to ruin you this year.

and that time would finally come when a party in the gryffindor common room was announced, and ginny had pleaded with you to come. you agreed reluctantly, as socializing in big gatherings like that was never your thing. but, now you could say that ginny was one of your closest friends. the dynamic between you was intriguing to others, as she was brave and rebellious, and you were just shy and... innocent.

that night, you wore a simply white tanktop, with a skirt with small pink flowers on it, and a thin sweater just in case you got cold.

but, as you arrived at the common room, you realized the sweater was probably not going to be needed. as the common room was packed with students, most drunk and others just wait too close for comfort. you gulped at the sight, and automatically began to look for ginny.

you found her snogging her new boyfriend dean, who you actually quite liked. but then, you saw seamus and neville standing right beside them, sipping on drinks. you walked over, and your presence became very apparent to neville.

you looked so fucking cute in that outfit. so fucking innocent.

“y/n!” ginny squealed, pushing dean away and pulling you in for a drunken hug, “you look so cute! where in the bloody hell did you get that skirt from?!”

you sent her a shy smiled and thanked her, “i—uh... don’t actually remember...”

“that’s fine! oh, here! drink up!”

she handed you a random cup, and you took a small whiff from it, your lips pursing with disgust. ginny let out a chuckle,

“you don’t have to! but... it’s your first big party so i figured that you might want to at least try!”

you thought for a moment, glancing over at neville who was leaned up against the wall, biting down on his lips as his eyes skimmed up and down your body.

“m-m-my mum said that she would murder me if she ever found out that i drank alcohol...”

seamus laughed at this, earning a slap on the arm from neville. ginny smiled politely at you,

“well... i don’t see your mum anywhere... do you?” she sent you a small wink, noticing that you wanted to drink, but that simple comment from your mother having an affect on you. “like i said... your choice! no pressure!”

you thought for a moment, and reluctantly took the cup from ginny’s hand. the group watched you intently as you shakily took a small slip, and your face cringed when the taste hit your tongue.

“that’s—that’s disgusting!”

the small group laughed,

“well... i don’t suppose it’s supposed to taste like pumpkin juice, y/l/n!” dean chuckled, grabbing the cup from your hand. him and ginny could tell that you definitely weren’t keen on drinking more tonight, which was more than fine.

you looked over at neville, who was still staring at you. he sent you a small wink, making your eyes go wide and your cheeks turn red.

yeah... he loved to make you blush.

the party seemed never ending as time passed, and you had found yourself sitting alone on the sofa, distancing yourself from ginny who was all over dean. you sat staring at the fireplace, watching it simmer away with every minute that passed.

“not having fun?”

you felt the spot next to you dip, and you looked over to see neville. you gulped as he adjusted his legs so they weren’t invading your personal space, but they were still definitely touching your own.

“k-k-kinda... i just don’t do well at parties...” you stuttered out, his presence always having an affect on you, “well... i’ve never been to a party so—i don’t really know why i... said that—oh, never mind...”

it was so cute how you hid your face after stumbling over your own words, and neville couldn’t help but to send you a small smirk. his imagination (like always) was already taking flight just from the mere sight of you.

“would you like for me to take you back to your dorm?” he asked, generosity laced in his tone. as much as he wanted to take you right there, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable at a party. he still had respect for you, and maybe even felt a bit protective.

“oh... it’s fine. i’m okay...” you replied truthfully, sending him a small, reassuring smile.

you two began to make small talk, and with every new topic, he scooted a bit closer to you. the topics of conversation were miscellaneous at first, but then you two began to delve into more personal facts, like first kisses and things like that.

“i—uh—never had my first kiss. or... you know...”

he smirked at you, leaning a bit closer, “know what, love?”

he didn’t know why, but he just wanted you to say it. and, he could tell by the way your thighs were clenching together, and the way your cheeks blushed from the nickname that you were thinking the exact same thing that he was.

“you know... the thing.”

“what thing, darling?”

you huffed, because you knew that he knew exactly what you were referring to.

“sex...”

there it was.

“oh... hm...” he tsked, setting his cup down on the table, “well... that’s understandable. but, i assume that you’ve gotten yourself off before, right?”

you froze at the question, as you had tried masturbating before, but felt too ashamed to continue. maybe you were just too innocent.

your silence was loud to neville, and this sparked an even bigger interest in his chest.

“oh... you’ve never—“

you quickly shook your head, your whole face now a shade of red. you were so embarrassed... and you knew you probably sounded super lame.

“it’s—it’s weird, i know... i just—“

“it’s not weird, doll. just—“ he stopped for a moment to glance at your lips, “interesting...” he then stopped again, now closing the small gap that ran between you two, “ever wonder what it feels like, y/n?” he whispered into your ear, and your chest tightened. “i know you think about it... i can tell by those pretty little thighs of yours clenching together...”

he was so close to you, and your heart felt as if it was about to beat out of your chest. your stomach felt fluttery, but it was... good.

“look at me...” he whispered once more, grabbing your chin. you did so slowly, only now noticing how close your faces were. “can i kiss you?”

before you could even think about it, you nodded. neville had always had an impact on you, and this moment definitely wasn’t changing anything. in fact, you had a strong wanting for him. a wanting that you had never felt before.

he slowly attached his lips to yours, and he couldn’t help but to let out a content sigh at the feeling. your lips felt just like how he thought they would... absolutely perfect. and even better, he could taste strawberry as well, giving him a sign that you had put on chapstick.

you had never kissed anyone before, but, you hoped all of the next times felt like this one did did. you were absolutely breathless by the time he pulled away, and for some reason, you didn’t want him to stop touching you. you needed more of whatever he was putting out.

he glanced around the party for a moment, and then swiftly tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“would you like to go up to my dorm, petal?”

your eyes widened for a second, as you had never dared to enter a boy’s dormitory. he noticed this, and placed a small peck to your nose,

“we don’t have to. only if—“

“yeah... i wanna go...”

he grinned at you, and stood up taking your hand, and you followed him through the crowded common room. he would look back at you every so often, noticing how your eyes were getting lost at all the activities going on around the both of you. you were so innocent....

he couldn’t wait to change that.

when you two got to his dorm, you looked around for a few moments, taking small notes on how things were organized—or... unorganized.

he lead you to his bed, sitting you down carefully.

“don’t know how you’re still wearing that sweater... i’m boiling in mine!” he joked, taking it off swiftly, and you could see the faint muscles stomach as he did so. he made you feel even more fluttery, as his exposed skin just seemed so perfect to the wondrous eye.

you awkwardly chuckled at the joke, and soon enough, you took your small, pink sweater off with ease, and neville grabbed it from you, and set it on his bedside table. he turned around, noticing how shy and nervous you looked,

“what’s wrong, love?” he asked kindly, looking down at you. your face and his crotch were at perfect level with each other, and you looked up at him,

“mm’ nothing...”

and it was the truth. you weren’t uncomfortable, nor felt paranoid or scared, you just were simply that shy.

he smiled at you, and let his hand find its way to your cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb.

“so pretty...” he cooed, “you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to touch you...”

you were taken back by this, but all at the same time, the dots finally connected.

how could you have been so oblivious?

“h-h-how long?”

he bent down a bit just to where your noses were barely touching, “a long time.” he replied, licking his lips.

“oh... well—i’m sorry...” you apologized, seeing his eyes turning dark.

he chuckled deeply, “no need to apologize, petal. you just needed to take your time...” he settled his hands on your thighs, slightly letting them wander up your skirt, “can i touch you some more?”

your body trembled, but seemingly in the best way possible. your stomach was practically on fire from his small, teasing touches. and, of course you wanted more. so, you nodded your head.

“use your words, or i can’t do anything...”

you found yourself getting lost in his eyes,

“yes...”

“yes, what?”

you paused for a moment, not even knowing how to say it.

“touch me...”

that was all neville needed before he snapped, and his lips once again collided with yours. you gasped into the kiss, noticing how much harder than it was than the first. but nonetheless, you were enjoying the hell out of it. especially when he slipped his tongue past your lips, and began to explore every part of your mouth.

he crawled on top of you, laying you down on the bed as he did so. he rubbed small, comforting circles into your hips, just to let you know that it was okay to feel the things you were feeling right now.

he broke the kiss for a swift moment, “if you want me to stop... tell me and i’ll do it, okay? i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

you nodded your head quickly, not even really regarding his words, only just craving more.

“words, y/n...” he reminded you,

“okay. i will.”

“promise?”

you sent him a small smile before replying,

“promise...”

he was about to dive in for another kiss, but stopped when he saw you lifting up your pinkie. he let out a breathy chuckle at this... how could a pretty girl like you be so innocent? you were a teenage girl, and you still made pinkie promises?

he hooked your pinkies together, and suddenly adjusted your fingers to where you were holding his hand. you chest became warm, and suddenly you realized that all along, you may have been slowly developing a crush on the boy.

you expected him to kiss your lips again, but instead, he started to press light kisses to your neck. you had never felt a sensation like this, and you let out a small whimper at the feeling. he knew that you would sound so pretty, and when the noises actually started to leave your lips, he definitely was not disappointed.

“you like that, petal?” he cooed teasingly in your ear, nibbling a bit on it, causing a shiver to go down your spine. that was all he needed before he continued to work on your neck, leaving small love marks on the smooth flesh.

“more...” you pleaded, still not really knowing what you needed more of, but just knowing that you needed it. he chuckled in your ear, and placed one last kiss on your jaw before sitting you up gently, and laying your head on his pillow.

“what do you want more of, love?” he asked, hovering over you.

that’s when you panicked a bit, “i-i-i don’t know... just—more...”

it was so funny, because even though you were begging, you truly didn’t even know what you wanted. it made neville’s thoughts go wild, and he could feel his cock harden at the look on your face as he got closer to you.

“you want me to touch you more?” he asked, already trailing his hand down to your outer thigh, “want me to make you feel good with my fingers?”

your heart almost exploded from his words, and you felt your panties suddenly dampen with something you weren’t familiar with. but, you had heard other girls talking about it. you may have been innocent, but you weren’t completely clueless.

“yes, please...” you shuddered, grabbing at his shoulders. he smirked, and placed a small, but reassuring kiss on your lips.

his fingers gently trailed over your thighs, going up your skirt, and it made you whimper. he pinched at the delicate skin, and you sighed out of content as his fingers inched closer and closer to where you knew you needed him the most.

you could feel yourself going red in the face, and sweat forming your forehead,

“aw... are you nervous, petal? does it not feel good?” he teased again, because he knew it did feel good. he just loved to see the look on your face when he let those types of words leave his lips,

“it—it feels good...” you reassured him, unknowingly.

“don’t worry, baby... gonna make you feel amazing,” he kissed your neck once more, and his fingers finally found your clothes bundle of nerves, and he pressed down gently.

you gasped at the sensation, your hips instinctively bucking up as you tried for more friction. he began with small circles on your panties, and you were already a soundly mess by the time he was attempting to push them aside, and run a finger up your slit.

“i’ve barely even touched you and you’re soaked... what’s got my pretty flower so worked up?”

the question made you hide your face in his chest from embarrassment, and he chuckled lightly.

“no need to be embarrassed, petal. i think it’s adorable...”

he kissed your lips again, his tongue finding its way back into your mouth as your chest heaved from the overwhelming pleasure.

without warning, he slipped one finger in. it made you gasp into the kiss, partly from pain, the other from pleasure. you sounded exactly like how he dreamed, and god, he couldn’t get enough of it.

“my bunny is so tight, isn’t she? untouched just for me?”

soon enough, he was fucking you relentlessly with his just one finger, and you rocked your hips back and forth, just chasing a build up that you had never even experienced before.

“look at you, petal... being so good, fucking my fingers like this. thought you never done this before?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you even could, a small whimper escaped your lips once again, “h-h-haven’t...”

he kept going and going, even at one point, slipping another finger in to stretch you out a bit. you practically screamed at this, the overwhelming sensation almost becoming too much for you to handle.

“do you touch yourself like this, baby?” he asked gently, in such a contrast to how his fingers were moving.

your eyes were screwed shut as you answered him, “c-c-can’t do it like—like this...”

like this, huh? that’s exactly what neville wanted to hear.

“c-c-can’t make myself c-cu—“

you were interrupted by neville swiftly pulling your tank top down, and beginning to suck on your nipple lightly. luckily, you hadn’t worn a bra with this tank top for the sole purpose of a bra not looking right with it. he chuckled at the sudden halt in speech, and kissed your breasts soothingly as he felt your pussy clench around his fingers.

“i can feel you clenching around me, bunny... are you gonna cum for me?” he asked, coming closer to your face. you nodded your head rapidly, not really understanding what he meant, but the coil in your stomach progressively becoming looser.

“my—my tummy f-f-feels funny...” you warned him, and he simply hummed at your obliviousness. “neville—“ you gasped, a wave of pure pleasure washing over you, sending electricity through your veins as he fingers went even faster.

“there you go, petal... there you go.”

your thighs trembled violently as you came, and you had to force your face into neville’s shoulder to muffle the scream that elicited from your lips.

as you saw white, neville kept going, this time focusing on your clit more than anything. those same noises leaving your mouth hadn’t stopped, and before you knew it, that same feeling over came you again. you rocked against his hand as you came, dragging the sheets from the corners of the mattress with you.

your whole body shook as neville took his hand away, and he licked the rest of your release off of his fingers. he hummed as he did so, as you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

“wanna taste yourself, doll? you taste so good...”

you furrowed your eyebrows at him slightly, but you only understood then when he held his fingers up to your lips. they were glossy and covered in all sorts of liquids, but you nodded your head. he watched you intently as you sucked on his fingers, his cock now painfully hard and practically pleading to be inside of you. he watched the drool that spilled from your lips, and the absolute desperation on your face.

you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

but suddenly, when he pulled away, you became quite ashamed for some reason. you had never had an experience like this before, and you couldn’t believe that you had just lied there and actually enjoyed it.

“what’s wrong, bunny?” he asked sweetly, moving some hair from your sweaty face.

you looked down at your thighs, and they were soaked with cum, as well as the sheets below you.

“i—i made a mess... i’m sorry... i-i-i didn’t know—“

“hey... it’s okay... that’s supposed to happen. it was quite hot, actually.” he reassured you with a teasing grin on his face, “aw... are you embarrassed?”

you hid your face in your hands as he asked the question, because yes... you were painfully embarrassed.

“no, no... there’s no need to be embarrassed, petal. you did so good for me, you know that? the most pretty thing i’ve ever seen...” he removed your hands from your face, and rubbed his hand up and down your hips, attempting to soothe you. “do you want more? or... are you done for the night?”

as much as you wanted to say no due to your shyness, it simply wouldn’t be an honest answer. of course you wanted more, you wanted so much more. you wanted everything you just had, and even more than that if even possible.

“um—more...”

he raised an eyebrow at you, “are you sure?”

you nodded your head as his finger grazed your exposed skin, “yes... please.”

and with that, he lifted you up for just one moment to fully take your tank top up, kissing your shoulders every now and then, as he could tell that you were nervous about him seeing you in such a vulnerable moment. he slipped your shoes off, and slid your skirt and panties down with ease, throwing them off to the side of the bed.

you laid back down, watching as he began to take his own clothes off. when he was finished, he hovered over you again, skimming your naked skin, drawing small circles into it. you instinctively covered your chest, also attempting to cover your whole lower region.

“no need for that, petal. you’re so beautiful... no need to cover yourself up.” you still kept your body covered up, and neville giving you a look of permission, slowly took your hands away. “i’ll prove it to you... is that alright?”

you thought for a moment, and gulped. but, you trusted neville, even if you weren’t that close with him, he seemed like a genuine person. so, you agreed.

he smiled at you, and pecked your lips. he began to kiss all over you, sucking and nibbling at certain parts, leaving you to whimper and tremble some more. his hands traveled everywhere, especially when it came to your breasts. he played with them between his fingers, showing extra attention to your nipples. you sighed from pleasure when he kissed them, and began to play with them with his tongue.

suddenly, he leaned up, and took you in for another heated kiss, “i can’t wait to ruin you, bunny...”

maybe if any other scenario, you would’ve panicked and ran foe the hills. but, this time, the words simply made you clench your thighs together. he felt it, and looked over. he let out a low chuckle, and shook his head.

“is that what you want? want me to fuck you?”

you were nervous for this part, but you couldn’t even be bothered to think on the fact that you were still a virgin. neville simply wouldn’t let you freak out, or feel shy or embarrassed.

you nodded your head fiercely, and he teasingly rubbed his cock on your swollen clit. you decided to kiss him this time, even forcing your own tongue in his mouth, which baffled him as he continued to rock his hips into yours.

“look at you... already making demands...” he moved some hair from your collarbone, “fuck... you’re so beautiful, bunny...”

there was a beat of silence, only the sounds of the long forgotten party somehow still going on downstairs.

“nev?”

he hummed in response, not being able to tear his eyes away from you,

“will—will you—um...”

you were too shy to say it, as such vile words had never even been thought about leaving your lips.

“will i what, flower? say it.”

you glanced over for a moment, your face turning red again, but he grabbed your chin, and forced your head back in his direction. “say it.”

you huffed, growing more needier and needier by the second,

“will—will you please—please... fuck me?”

there it was.

“thought you’d never ask, flower...”

that’s when he kissed you again, but this time, it felt... different. it didn’t feel as if he was just trying to fuck you, get you wet, no. it felt... loving. like, he simply just wanted to kiss you because he just wanted to kiss you. that was it.

he aligned himself with you, and looked up at you with reassurance in his eyes. “are you sure?”

you nodded, “yes, of course...” you shot him a innocent smile, despite the very thing that was about to happen. but, your smile suddenly faltered when a small memory popped into your head. it was ginny’s voice saying:

“yeah... and it hurt like—really bad at first when he put it in.”

he noticed the shift in your face, and stopped automatically.

“what’s wrong, flower?”

you looked up at him for a moment,

“do—w-w-will it hurt?”

he couldn’t help but to smile at you, as your voice was just so fragile and curious. but, he kissed your temple,

“just for a few moments, bunny. but, if it’s too much... you can let me know and i’ll stop, alright? i want you to enjoy yourself.”

you couldn’t help but to smile back at him, as his voice was so soothing and hypnotic. “okay...”

and with that, he aligned himself one more time, and held your hip down as he slowly slid his tip inside of you. that burning sensation started, the one that ginny had described. and for a moment, you thought you wouldn’t be able to handle it. a small hiss came from your lips at the intrusion, and neville caressed your cheek,

“s-s-slow at first... please?”

he chuckled, “that was my plan, petal.”

he began to dig his hips deeper, his cock making its way slowly more into you. you whimpered with every movement, but neville was there to whisper soft praises and reassurances in your ear.

“taking me so well, baby...” “you feel so good...” “god, you’re absolutely stunning, bunny...”

as time went by, his patience never faltered, and finally, that burning pain turned into searing pleasure. he hugged your body as he thrusted into you, every time an obscene noise leaving your once shy lips.

“tell me how good it feels, princess...”

“s’ good, nev... please...”

and at one point, a string of curses even left your mouth, leaving neville a groaning mess, as your innocence was slowly dying out underneath him.

“never knew such a innocent bunny like you could say such nasty things...” he whispered, kissing your throat, sucking on it a bit.

finally, that now familiar burning your tummy took over, and you were squirming underneath him as you unraveled in his arms. a loud scream left your lips, and neville planted an open mouthed kiss to muffle your noises.

“you look so gorgeous when you cum...”

with just a few more thrust, neville pulled out, cumming all over your stomach. he should’ve asked you before hand, but you yourself knew how sex worked, and how not to get pregnant, so you were more than fine with it.

he rested on top of you for a few moments, not even caring about your sweaty bodies sticking to the other’s. he placed a few kisses around your face, and slowly got up. he picked your panties off of the floor, and leaned you up to put them back on you.

“you need to go use the bathroom, darling...” he suggested, eyeing you through hooded eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows,

“why?”

he chuckled at your innocence—well... obliviousness.

“because... you can get a UTI if you don’t. and those suck for girls to have.”

your mouth formed into an ‘o’ shape, and you obliged by getting up. but, you underestimated everything for a moment, as your legs aches, as well as your whole entire lower body. neville saw you struggling as he threw his boxers back on,

“need help?”

you looked over at him with puppy dog eyes,

“h-hurts...”

he quickly took you into his arms, and carried you into the dorm bathroom. you did the rest on your own of course, and noticed how you were bleeding. you freaked out inside of your head for a moment, but then remembered ginny saying that the same thing had happened to her. so, that eased your clouded mind for the time being.

when you arrived back into the main part of the dorm, neville was sitting on his bed, already reading a book as he waited for you. you tip toed over to your small pile of clothes, picking them up and slipping everything back on.

“um—i’m gonna—go, i suppose...” you stated awkwardly, shoes in hand and sweater in the other. neville suddenly laid his book down, and furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“why?”

well, you didn’t really know why. you just maybe assumed that you were being invasive now.

“well—we... you know—did that. so... you have no need for me anymore...”

neville couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he had wanted you, not just sex. you had obviously been very misinformed.

“y/n...” he laughed softly, sitting up all the way,

“do you actually think that’s all i wanted from you?”

Tags

neville longbottom recs neville x reader neville longbotton x reader

1K notes View Post

silkfyre

1 year ago

𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕒'𝕤 𝔹𝕠𝕪

Bo Sinclair x Fem! Reader Smut !18+! !MDNI! Syn. Bo has the tendency to compare his wife to his mom, and she's getting real sick of it. Tags. unprotected sex, p in v, housewife-reader, toxic/dysfunctional marriage, implied verbal abuse, mommy-kink, hurt/comfort, slightest breeding-kink, mommy-issues (Bo's, not child's), Bo & reader's son's name is Billy, (no use of y/n) Word Count. 2.9k

Droplets of scalding oil fly off the heavily greased pan and hit your skin like prickles, shit hurts. Not as much as your eardrums do, though, same as your other arm you aren't using to hold the handle of the pan that's carrying the twenty-five-pound toddler in your other arm that's screaming bloody murder.

"'Wanna play outside! MORE PLAYTIME!" another shriek of baby babbles wrecks the barrier protecting the shell of your ear. You groan, attempting to bounce Billy while also attempting to not burn the dinner on the pan, yeah that'd hurt more. Bo's been working 'round Ambrose all day, as usual, you don't need two temper tantrums to deal with over a burnt supper.

"God damn.." You suck in a breath when Billy knees into your side and you almost drop the food cooking. He's a growing boy for sure, pudgy small legs of his grown enough to land some fatal kicks. Bo would've laughed, except it's not funny, not when you're the one dealing with the kid all day. "You can't go outside, it's late baby." You try and reason with the kid, but you know, he's a kid.

"No! Wanna play! WANNA PLAY OUTSIDE!" He retorts, it's a nonexistent counter-point, not like he could make one anyway, his vocabulary is as small as he is.

Another bubble of sizzling oil scars your wrist shaking the pan and you damn near snap at it. All things considered, to say you were overwhelmed is an understatement. The grip you have on Billy snugs and you let go of the panhandle, leaving the frying food on the stove, instead drifting your full attention to Billy's.

"Enough." You elongate your words, mommy voice pitching deep and you wrap both hands around him, staring him down. "Daddy's gonna be home soon and that means supper then bed for you, no more playtime, 'specially when it's dark out." You scold. Billy whines and tosses around in your arms, dramatic showmanship but doesn't screech back at you anymore, at least.

At this point, your patience is out the window, and while thank god your ears ain't bleeding, you need the toddler to just calm down so you can get back to finishing up dinner. About to burst, the door swings open first, cutting off the next little lecture you were going to dump on Billy, familiar taps on the old wooded floor, Bo's home.

His boot turns and he grins at you and Billy, stepping to the kitchen quickly. "How're my babies?" Bo said before he could really process the exact situation he stepped into.

Turning to face Bo rather than the miniature of him in your arms, your brows furrow at him, and Billy just keeps, whining. Squirming around in your arms while you glare at Bo, not that you're mad at him, okay maybe you are but not justifiably, at the moment you're just mad. Bo doesn't acknowledge it, instead looking around then to the stove.

Shit, dinner.

"You burnt supper," He gestures to the now char-blacked mix of ingredients inside the pan, nose and eyes crinkling in disgust at it. Funny, he's seen plenty of burnt shit, like corpses, but god forbid his dinner be burnt.

You choose to ignore the statement. "Can you take him?" You ask instead, reaching your arms outward for Bo to take Billy out of them. He wails between your arms, tiny nails digging into your skin while you try to hand him to Bo, let him help out.

"Can't handle him yourself?" Bo replies and doesn't take Billy out your arms, raising a judgemental brow at you.

"Just take him so I can fix the food." You respond, nudging your chin up in the direction of Billy for Bo to take him, but he doesn't.

"Bo." His name parts from you in a restrained growl.

Billy is out of your arms into Bo's now, but there isn't any sweetness in the expression Bo gives you when he does. Mercy isn't present in his gesture, taking the kid and giving you another judgy look in lieu of a willing expression as he does.

Circling between the kitchen to living room Bo rocks Billy over his shoulder, letting him wail it out till he gets exhausted by his fit. Eventually, the whines soften to snores. A momentary silence as Bo rocks him in his arms, you opting out of remaking the earlier failed meal with Billy now sound asleep. For a second your eyes meet Bo's while you wash the burnt remains off of the pan, as he walks off with the sleeping toddler to put him to bed.

"Need help with that too?" He balances himself against the hardwood kitchen counter clicking his tongue from behind you, there's the tiniest amount of condescension in his voice. See that, that shit hurts a lot more than hot oil. Can't control that mouth of his, has a mind of its own, he told you once too many times by now when, if, he'd bother to check up on you after airing out his bullshit onto you.

"No." You've learned not to engage with whatever got him pissed by now, not with Bo. Vincent doesn't, hell even Lester doesn't, why would you? Would be stupid to. Not like he hits you or anything anyway, just mouths off sick filth with absolutely no filter. Got the worst of tempers but he does enough gutting and beating in his own time when getting Vincent his wax muses.

A mock laugh erupts from Bo and he tilts himself forward to your side of the kitchen, leaning over the sink to look you in the eye. Once again, you ignore the bubbling rage emanating from him, boiling up. But you can handle heat. Spend half your day on the frypan taking care of the boys, even if it means the boys just burn you twice as much.

Bo sucks in his teeth, and you can feel the room getting warmer, not the arousing kind, Bo's signature can be being a horny fucking mess, but also an angry one. "I don't get it." He scoffs, shaking his head at the unsaid words he isn't even gonna try and hold back on. "It's one kid, for fucks sake."

Now this, you know where this one's going. Reuccering theme of your husbands, the never-ending need to nitpick at your parenting. He bitches about damn well everything, but there are those times you feel the tips of your nerves itch all wrong, like a sixth sense at this point when he's about to spit those abhorrent words.

"My Mama managed fine with three so," Ah, there it is, your least favourite words to ever grace God's green earth. Broken record at this point with how often Bo brings it up. 'My Mama never-' 'My Mama did-' Words that seemed to toss any left sanity you had in you into the fire you thought you had grown used to, but no you didn't. Because it burns more hellish each time it's said.

"I'm sure she did." Your teeth grit while you speak feigning little control as you try and remain docile, not to fan the flame any further.

"Shouldn't be burnin' dinner, you know your way 'round a fire." He adds, voice raising with each sentence. Damn straight you know your way around a fire, dealing with Bo's frenzies all the time, you've gone numb to the temperature he inflicts with his tongue.

"Billy was having a tantrum." You gently defend.

"You call that a tantrum?" Bo snorts, taunting the notion. "Small lil hissy-fit at best, darlin'. My Mama ain't never burnt no meals over my tantrums."

"Well, I'm not your Mama." You snarl cutting him off, pupils jolting away from the dish you were scrubbing to Bo's. Sick and tired is one way to describe the crazy you were experiencing right now at Bo's statements. A band snapping in the kitchen between you and him

The edge of his shoulders stiffens into a line, and for the first time since you've known him, you think you've burnt him instead. A woefully pathetic air casts in his over his eyes, turning pitiable. "No, you're not." He replies as if he's testing the words, tasting them in his mouth as he verbalizes them, and they taste bittersweet sort of wrong. An unfortunate truth.

Not sure if you're more shocked at yourself, or Bo right now you simply pause at the sight. Bo is, in fact, not yelling back at you. Shutting you up in some pseudo-volume battle that'd sure to have woken up anyone asleep in the house. Instead, he just looks at you like a kicked dog, not too far from what he was, his life considered.

The air goes cold, bedsheets feeling extra plush around you, that sort of featherlight coolness engulfing you on the bed, odd. Rarely cold in Ambrose, even in the dead of night. Much less soft, you're more used to suffocating in heat, wax requires it to meld and shape, And Bo pours it out in all his hot-headed tantrums you get burdened with.

Bed post creaking you look over your shoulder from your side and the familiar dip on the other side has Bo there finding his usual spot beside you.

This isn't hellfire hot, this is limbo, off-putting quietude, yet not tranquil. A second passes and Bo just stares off at the rusted ceiling. Did you break Bo? Did you fuck it up this time, like seriously fuck it up with what you said? More disturbed by the blue tune of silence than hollering, you turn completely to him.

"Uhm," You start, unsure of where you're going with your question. "You still mad at me?" If he was, you're sure you would've known it, Bo doesn't shy away from his anger or showcasing it. Still, you question.

"I'm not mad at you, darlin'." Bo sighs, shutting his eyes to avoid yours, wrinkles of the eyelid creasing in some kind of negative emotion.

Gently rolling to Bo's side you land atop his chest pressing your cheek flat against it, hearing the thump of his heart, familiarized with it by now. His arm finds place around your side rubbing your back instinctively. "Just, you know, my Mama... My Mama was real different than ya. Different to how you're with Billy."

There's an internal tick being set off because you've heard him sing this song too many times, about his Mama. Not that you had anything against the lady, bless her for raising your man, and bless your man for respecting her, it's sweet. But it's the constant comparing that had you getting all worked up.

"Different to how you're with me..." He adds, swallowing back a lump, and perhaps if you haven't gone crazy officially, a tear as well. So, this is not where you were expecting the conversation to go. Bo's not mad, not picking at you for the expectation his mother set.

"You're so, so patient. With Billy, with me." He praises, he's praising you. Not mad, not disappointed, grateful. "Don't hurt me, at all, only," He groans, the bridge of his brow pinching, eyes still shut as he speaks. A vulnerability in his tone. "You only do me good. Make me feel good." He means it all, with complete genuineness. Almost as though he's shocked at you for it, 'cause Bo's never seen you hit Billy, the kid's only got scars from scruffy tree branches that scrapped his knees. Bo's are all too vivid, leather and duct tape that's no longer there but still stings in his wrists and ankles. Never knew a woman could get so gentle, not with how his mama was, yet you were.

You smooth a hand over his chest where you lay, up to his cheek, hovering over his waterline wiping off the tears before they've fallen with a soft motion. "Shh, Bo." You soothe.

"Christ darlin'. You're such a good Mommy..." Bo murmurs, releasing a shaky breath, opening his eyes to look at you. Disbelief apparent from the quake rumbling through the way he speaks right now. He mumbles something else intangible and pulls you flush closer to him.

Sweat salts your skin, snapping hips up and down against each other room re-enveloped with familiar warmth while you swallow him whole.

"O-Ohh.. S'good, such a good boy, Bo." You warble in mixed moans, absolutely drenching the sheets under the round of your ass Bo pounding languidly into your gushing cunt. Tips of your finger pushing indents into the muscle of his back.

Fervor spilled through his mind as you tugged him down closer, pussy sucking him in the same. Pulling then pushing his cock by the full till the tip nearly slipped out then slamming in deeper. "Fuck yeah, feels good Mommy? I makin' you feel so good, huh?" He purred, dipping his head into the crook of your neck breath fanning right over your ears fuzzing out the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. "Oh fuuuck, Grippin' me like crazy, Mommy."

Saliva doused into the crook of your neck, Bo sucking in the skin and lapping at it. Wanting to kiss you whole, fuck you full. Maybe fill you with another baby, because you've done so well with the first he's given you. Another time, though, right now all that swelled was his cock lodged deep into you and awe in his mind.

You tossed your legs around his waist, shivers twisting the inside of your abdomen, Bo fucks good every time. His mouth is so much more lovable stuck on the sensitive inches of your flesh making out hickeys and love bruises rather pissy words. "Close! Mommy's s-so close!" You gasp, tugging him closer, close as can be so his body heat can burn you right, the way you deserved it.

Feeling you pull him till bodies melded like molten wax, and your insides warming his cock, clenching in a steady increase, Bo hugged his arms around your waist. Pelvis slamming harder, quicker against yours, increased pace jackhammering your cunt.

"Cum f'me. Come on, Cum for me, pretty Mama. Cum all over my cock Mommy," His voice mumbled in a strained groan, bordering a whimper, heavy breathed against the sticky spot he'd left into the corner of your neck and shoulder while he pushes you to climax.

Felt good to burn like this, to be loved by Bo. Your brain turned to mush and white stars of bliss flooded from your spasming cunt to your brain. "Fuck, Ohh yes! Cumming! Cumming!" Gripping his cock so tight he almost came right there and then, but graced himself while he plunged deep into you restlessly, riding out the onslaught of euphoria that burned your veins.

You were fucked out, that much was certain, first orgasm hit hard, harder than any words he could beat you with. Already stressed out day, Bo fixing that for you, dutiful husband the such. Rolling his hips in slower motions as you calm down from your high, your thighs clamp around his hips feeling the sting of sex continue passed your orgasm.

"Stay wimme Mommy, gimme one more, yeah?" Bo tilted his head, raising it so it hovered over your forehead, staying atop you with a lustful adoration in his eyes. He was lucky, that much was certain. Not much luck in his life, crazy dead daddy and mommy, favourite freak of a twin brother, got you though. He got himself the sweetest baby mama a man could ask for. That shit is the best luck if he'd ever felt it.

"One more, sweet Mommy, and I'll fuck ya full. Mhm?" He cooed, pressing his lips to yours and snapping his cock into you, regaining his previous pace as your pussy relaxed around him. Building his thrusts back into quickness while hugging you close, kissing you with love.

You warmed impossibly hot, like an unbridled flame. Clinging to him while he does to you, because you're his everything, because you're his wife, his mommy, his darling. "O-Oh, Oh god Mommy, gonna... Gonna-" Bo choked out, cock throbbing in you with each slap of his balls against your ass. body churning and tense fucking you quick as could be.

"Me too- Oh fuck!" You felt it coming harder than a tidal wave this time, Bo nearing his as well. Your eyes rolled behind your skull and Bo slammed his lips to yours again to shut his own pornish moans from spilling out, your pussy driving him to pure rapture.

Ecstasy ran through you two's bodies and he delved his cock straight into you in a final thrust of needed high, balls tightening and spilling deep into you with strangled cries of pleasure filling your lips that parted his. Teeth clattering messily against each other while he rode out his high in your spasming pussy, you washing into the second state of bliss the night cumming hard around his cock.

Bo could be a horrid husband at times, but God be damned, was he a grateful one. So grateful, wanted to send you to heaven, and push you through it over and over. Hoping to keep the fire churning in you forever.

But for now, his dick was spent. And his Mommy was already exhausted as be taking care of his kid all day, and also getting fucked stupid by him. He pulled out with a grunt and flopped to his side in the bed. "Supper would've been good, now." He mumbles in a snort, wrapping his loose-jointed arm around your waist and rubbing a hand over your bare curves.

"Don't even start.." You grumble softly, before letting out a soft giggle, the type that makes him go stupider than emptying his balls in you. A dumb grin overtook his face and he smiled at you, rolling slightly in the bed to face you.

"Sorry, darlin'." Sorry's only happen after Bo fucked you, not after he yells, never after he scalds you with words. But you'll take it, if it meant getting dicked down by the best man in Ambrose.

"It's okay." You reply in a soft sigh, nuzzling against him. His perfect Mommy.

Tags

house of wax bo sinclair bo sinclair x reader recs Jesus chrisssssst this is my favorite Bo fic and I’ve read a lot of fucking Bo fics lmao

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